


A Northern Intellect

by TeaFourTwo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - Book, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Drama, F/M, Family Feels, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, R plus L equals J, Reincarnation, Relationship Tags added as they happen, SLOOOOOOOOWWWWW BUIIIIILLLLLDD, Slow Build, Strong Female Characters, Twins, Weirwood(s), Winterfell, With A Twist, Worldbuilding, not a self-insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaFourTwo/pseuds/TeaFourTwo
Summary: There was a moment of silence as the little girl gathered her thoughts. “I dream of a place that is not here. A place with towers of steel and flying metal boats. Of fires that never go out, of people so rich they throw out mountains of food and still grow so fat they can hardly move—”“Oh,” Her mother sighs a laugh, interrupting her, “Wynnie, those are not like the True dreams. Those are just dreams, wild imaginations that bloom at night, when you have the time to think on them.”“No!” Edwyna shouts, startling the laughter from Lady Starks’ face as quickly as it formed, “No, these are real.”--Lady Lyarra Stark prays to the Gods for an answer to her husbands foolish southern ambitions, and gets more than she bargained for. But will her unnaturally intelligent daughter be enough to keep her children and the North safe?Edwyna doesn't think she is as special as her mother believes. All she knows is that she wants the dreams to stop so she can sleep and play with her brother Brandon in peace.





	1. 262 AC: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first fanfic that I've ever posted on AO3, and definitely the first fanfic I've written in oh...ten years? I love OC's but hate mary-sues and, though I do enjoy a well written self-insert, this is not what that will be! This will be not be a 'modern girl falls/is reincarnated into westeros and remembers all the major events in GoT/ASOIAF' kind of story! So if that is what you are looking for then turn back now...but I'd love it if you gave the story a chance anyway before giving up on it!
> 
> However, the main character is an OFC, there are elements of reincarnation involved here, and this will become an AU, though NOT because she knows about canon events and is actively trying to change them. I won't say anymore than that. Anything else you'll have to find out for yourself.
> 
> Oh! and also: there will be additional tags and relationship tags added as the story progresses, but I'm keeping them secret until they occur so they are somewhat of a surprise. I have much of this written ahead and will post once a week or every other week depending on my edit time.

262 AC 

 

In the godswood a fine layer of snow layered the ground and dusted the blood red leaves of the Weirwood. Slowly the snow fell, growing higher and higher on the branches of the creaking woods as well as the shoulders of a solitary figure. Before the weir wood she knelt, not a single shiver wracked her slim form as her footprints in the snow behind her grew so shallow as to be unnoticeable. Soon there would be new ones in the snow, following her past steps to find her and chide her for her recklessness. It was unavoidable that she be found, but for now she relished her moment of piece before the heart tree.

“I have always been faithful, despite the hardships my family has seen.” The figure finally whispered, gaze focused directly at the old weeping face of the heart tree. “My husband has always shared that faith. Together we were two rooted trees spreading and strengthening our wood against all that would chop us down…”

Here she paused and her eyes grew distant with a fond sadness. “But my husbands feet find their way before the gods less and less, and the maester whispers into his ear more and more. His eyes turn south, his blood grows warm, and I find myself staring into eyes stranger to me than when we first wed.”

A cold wind burst from the east, the whole of the godswood seeming to creak under the unyielding rush. Despite being shielded by the looming white of the heart tree, the figure rocks back from the force of the gust and her hood slips from her crown. Dark hair spills out and whips about her face, and soft grey eyes continue to stare unblinking into those weeping eyes, despite the sting.

“Our people starve and freeze, and we grow poorer for it. I dream we will be lords of nothing but the dead, like the Others that once ruled the Long Night. I know he believes the south is the solution, but in my dreams…we are ice, and the south will do nothing but slowly melt us until we are nothing but water, malleable to their whims.” She rather spits her last words as a cold hand comes to rest upon her nearly flat belly, “He would use our children in his reach, to fuel his _ambitions._ My first child only just quickens in my belly and already he speaks of betrothals to the south. I may not have much power in this world, but I already love this child with everything I have…and if the love of a mother is worth _anything_ then perhaps you will hear my prayers…”

Her whispered words have no echo but in her own mind and she soon shuffles forward to press her forehead to the heart tree. The bark is like cold stone to her forehead and as her tears fall they mirror the weeping face before her. “Please, _please_ , if you still listen, show me the way to turn him from this path. Show me the way to keep my children safe, to keep the _North_ safe _._ ”

In the distance a voice calls, and the soft sound of running footsteps draw nearer. As her friend and servant draws nearer she remains still and silent, bark chaffing her forehead, eyes stinging and ears pricked for an answer. She prays the gods have heard her, she prays they will send an answer, she prays so strongly and single-mindedly that she does not realize she needs to take a breath. And yet, as the realization comes upon her, she cannot force her chest to rise or her eyes to close.

The calls of her servant grow distant where they'd once grown closer, her vision grows dark where the white of the heart tree had been and still her chest does not rise. The cold is a numbness that spreads from tips of toes to tip of nose, and still she does not move, _cannot_ move. Eyes stare at her from the dark, odd and too intelligent to be in the face of a child. She is not afraid when it reaches for her, but filled with love.

As the child touches her face she blinks and the vision is gone. With a rasping gasp she flings herself from the trees' base and falls to the ground, coughing and shuddering. Her servant Kennas' terrified face floats into view above her, but all she can see is the red eyes of the child, _her_ child. As the black spots leave her vision and sound slowly creeps back into her ears, a hand lifts to touch the warmth of her cheek where the child had touched her, and Lyarra Stark smiles.

 

—

 

On a cold winter night 6 months later, just before the break of dawn, two squalling children were born. In her tired arms Lady Stark holds the first with slight confusion, a boy with steel grey eyes and a tuft of black hair upon his head. These are not the eyes that’d looked at her from the heart tree, and she looks up at the other child being washed gently by the maester in hope. She can hear Maester Walys whisper fervently to her handmaiden Kenna who stands beside him, and they both look at her second child nervously.

“What is it? What is wrong?” She said hoarsely, panic swiftly gathering in her stomach. Why won’t they let her see her other child?

“Nothing Lady Stark,” Maester Walys said with some hesitance, “You have a healthy baby girl.”

“It’s just…” Kenna murmured, her hands twisting fitfully as the Maester brought her other child to her, “Her eyes m’lady…they’re—”

“Red.” Lady Stark said with awe as her second child replaced her baby boy in her arms. “Her eyes are as red as the Weirwood’s sap…”

“…at least the boy is normal.” She heard Kenna say quietly, holding her son.

“Yes,” The Maester said with a sigh, “We would not want any unsavory comparisons between the heir to winterfell and…that Targaryen sorcerer.”

Kenna gave a muffled gasp sounding like the word ‘bloodraven,’ as if the comparison had not occurred to her until that moment. Lady Stark ignored their whispers as she stared into the eyes she’d seen once before, alone but for the company of the gods. She let their nonsense slip into the background as she became acquainted with her younger child, just as she had her son. She stroked her black tuft of hair, same as her brother, and her soft pudgy skin. “So pale and delicate…like the first summer snow.”

“…called?” The tale end of a question drifted into her little bubble of silence. “Lady Stark? Have you thought of what they will be called?

“Yes,” She said finally looking up and at her boy held in Kenna’s arms, “Brandon, for my boy, and for my girl…”

Lyarra pressed a kiss to the delicate skin of her daughters forehead, “Edwyna.”

“Edwyna? After Edwyn, the Spring King?” Kenna asked in surprise as the Maester wrote down their names in the family book. “A strange name for a child born in winter, if you don’t mind me saying m’lady.”

Lady Stark smiled at her confusion, “Edwyn was a King of Winter, not of spring. He reigned for near on 60 years before his son Torrhen took his seat, that would be an unprecedented long spring, don’t you think? He was named the Spring King because he brought prosperity and food to his people. We still leave one field fallow, as he taught, to this day.”

“Yes, a good king by all accounts. Two strong fine names my lady, well chosen.” Maester Walys gives her a tight smile. Lyarra has no doubt he is less than pleased she’d named both her children after kings of winter, blatant symbols of Northern independence and a rebellion against his southern ambitions. “They are thus recorded in the Stark family tree, gods be good.”

Lyarra closes her eyes and relaxes, “Yes, gods be good.”


	2. 267 AC: A Promise Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Making the letters is hard.” Edwyna shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Reading is easy. I know it, in my head.”
> 
> Here her mother looked skeptical. “You’ve always been quick but…to learn to read in just a week…”
> 
> “No, it was already there.” A long pause followed and Edwyna’s small face scrunched in concentration, as it always did when she struggled over a thought or tough word. “Like I just needed re-mine-ding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I just posted this story, but I thought I'd add the first chapter as well, because the prologue is so short and doesn't give much sense of the story. Enjoy!

267 AC

 

“What's this?”

“That is coal Edwyna, and is not to be played with.”

“Why not?”

“Coal is dirty, playing with it will get you dirty, and then you’ll have to wash up. You wouldn’t want that would you?

“No.” The little girl said sullenly, and for a moment she is quiet. From her seat on the floor she sees her mother stifle a smile at her victory and return to her embroidery.

“What’s it for?” She said as she eyes the pile of coal.

“Here it is primarily used for cooking fires,” Her mother sighs, “And the proper way to ask is ‘what _is_ it for,’ Edwyna.”

“What _is_ it for.” Edwyna corrects, entirely unconcerned by the Lady Lyarra’s growing exasperation. “Why not wood?”

“Coal burns slower and more evenly.”

“Oh.” Her mother sighs again and goes back to her embroidery, “Why does it burn slower and more ee-ven-lee?”

“Honestly,” the lady huffed without looking up, “Why are the seasons unpredictable? Why is the sky blue? Why do you ask so many questions? It is just the way it is, there is no good answer. Mayhap’s if you are so curious I’ll arrange for you to spend more time with Kenna, hmm? She certainly loves to talk.”

“Kenna is mean,” Edwyna sulks as she grows closer to the coal pile, “She always pokes me with her needle.”

“Kenna is just reminding you of what you _should_ be doing. Which is your letters.” She states firmly, nodding to the untouched tablet on the rug before her. After a moment when no response came she furrowed her brow and looked up, “Edwyna? Edwyna! By the gods what did I say about playing with the coal?”

The child laughed from where she sat with crushed coal in her left hand, her dress smeared and face smudged. In her other hand she held crumbling charcoal from the cold bucket beside the fire. Her mother set down her embroidery and huffed over to the washbasin in the corner of the room.

“Now what is the purpose of this, hmm? What came of your disobedience but a dirty dress and more work for the servants?”

“I wanted to see.” The girl said passingly, still rather preoccupied with her observations, “To see why they are different.”

“Did I not just _tell_ you why they are different?”

“That wasn't a real answer!” The girl giggled and squirmed away as the wet cloth her mother held was rubbed up her arms.

“ _Would_ you hold still, Edwyna? By the gods but you are just too curious for your own good.” Despite her words however the lady had a fond smile upon her face. “Your tongue will put you and your brother in trouble someday.”

“ _Brandon_ is trouble, not me!” Edwyna exclaimed in affront, her nose adorably scrunched.

Her mother hummed in disbelief and quirked her brow in response. She knew her eldest son was often found in places he shouldn’t be, whether the larder or even his fathers solar, but she had no doubt who was the mind behind his little adventures. Her daughter was just much too clever and quick to be caught, and her son much too loyal to snitch.

“There,” Lady Lyarra said finally, “Clean as the king himself. Now, where _is_ that brother of yours? He, Ned and little Lyanna should have arrived back by now from their walk with Kenna.”

Edwyna shrugged but her gaze was to the floor. With narrowed eyes her mother tipped Edwyna’s chin up, but still her eyes avoided hers.

“Alright, out with it.” Lady Lyarra said sternly, “Where’ve you sent your brother off to this time?”

Her daughter mumbled something under her breath quietly and Lady Lyarra tapped her chin up for a second time.

“Wynnie.” She prompted softly, using the familiar moniker that often put her at ease.

“…Walys’ room.” Edwyna mumbles sullenly before finally looking her lady mother in the eyes, “I wanted a book.”

“A book? What on earth would you need a book for? You’ve only just started learning your letters last week, and I haven’t seen a single practice mark on your tablet!”

“Making the letters is hard.” Edwyna shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Reading is easy. I know it, in my head.”

Here her mother looked skeptical. “You’ve always been quick but…to learn to read in just a week…”

“No, it was already there.” A long pause followed and Edwyna’s small face scrunched in concentration, as it always did when she struggled over a thought or tough word. “Like I just needed re-mine-ding.”

“Well,” Lady Stark said, an odd look on her face, “if you really wanted a book you could have just asked. Breaking into Maester Walys’ rooms and stealing his belongings is not becoming for the child of a Paramount Lord. You are not a common thief.”

“ _Brandon_ would be the thief.” She said, receiving a swat upside the head for her cheek. “I just…thought you wouldn’t believe me, that you would think I was lying, like Kenna did.”

“My dear Wynnie…you’re always so clever that sometimes I forget you are just a girl of five.” Strong sure hands clasped around her little face, and she shivered; her mothers hands were always so cold, but gentle. “I am not Kenna, I’m your _mother_ and you can trust me with anything.”

Looking into the soft grey eyes of her mother Edwyna felt her throat tighten with the force of words that wished to escape. She so dearly wanted to tell her mother everything in that moment, all the dreams and ideas in her head that she whispered at night to her twin brother Brandon. But as her lips formed around the first thought the door behind them slammed open, disrupting the moment. Her mother looked up at once and Edwyna turned to follow her gaze, a smile lighting up her face when she saw her brother pushing the door closed.

“Got it! Wynnie I gots the book!” Brandon said as he turned towards them with his comically large book, looking puffed up and prideful. “I was silent as a cat, didn’t even notice me!”

Somewhere down the corridor a man shouted his name and Brandon looked sheepishly at his mother. “Well, he _mostly_ didn’t notice me, he didn’t see me anyway. He came in at the very very end, and-!”

“Brandon Stark!” Her mother interrupted harshly, and her brothers mouth snapped shut. A moment passed where Brandon looked cowed and guilty, but as Maester Walys’ shouting voice grew closer to their door her brother got that familiar stubborn look about him. The one that always meant he was going to argue until the other person said he was right, just to get him to leave them alone.

“I had to do it mother, ‘cause Maester Walys see, he was being mean to Wynnie saying she was lying about being able to read it, and she was just gonna ruin it and that it was ‘much too advanced for a little _girl.’_ And he said it like that too, in that way that said he knew she couldn’t read it cuz she’s a girl, like an insult right, and Wynnie’s really smart y’know? So he’s the liar, ‘cause he’s sayin’ it like she’s stupid or a fool and-and so I just had to go get the book for her!”

At the end of his poorly structured and contraction full tirade her mother placed her hands upon her hips, looking entirely unimpressed. Her brave foolhardy brother stared right back, equally as unimpressed, and Edwyna sat quivering on the floor with tension as the sound of footsteps grew closer.

“Stealing is strictly forbidden in this household, as is sneaking into peoples room uninvited. Your father will certainly restrict you to the nursery for a week when he hears of it.” Her mother said finally, and both children slumped in defeat.

“Which is why,” Lady Stark continued after a pause, “you absolutely must take that book and hide it in the wardrobe right away.”

A smile quirked Lady Starks lips at her children’s shocked faces. “Quickly now! There’s not much time, put the book here and go sit beside your sister. There, now, take up your tablet and start on your letters. You’ve been here for some hours already and are growing quite weary of it, isn’t that right?”

Her children nodded with delight just as the door burst open for the second time that evening. In strode Maester Walys, red faced and looking straight at Brandon.

“You!” He said with fury, before quickly collecting himself upon noticing Lady Stark standing by the wardrobe. “My Lady, I apologize for the intrusion, but it appears your son has stolen something of mine.”

“Stolen?” She gasped, her affront a perfect unquestionable truth, “My, that is quite the accusation Maester Walys. I hope you have the proof to validate it, although I’m uncertain as to how considering my son and daughter have been here with me for the past hour.”

“Well he—what I mean to say is that I saw—” Maester Walys stumbled over his words in confusion, “The past hour you say? Are you quite sure? A book has just gone missing that your daughter was asking for you see and…well with his propensity for sneaking into places he shouldn’t and snitching food from the kitchens…”

“Maester Walys, my sons past actions do not mean you can place blame for every lost candle and misplaced book in his hands! Now, if that is all, I’d suggest you take your allegations elsewhere.”

“Now wait just a moment,” Maester Walys demurred nervously, “you must be mistaken my lady. Just a half hour ago your own servant, Kenna I believe her name is, came across me quite worriedly asking if I’d seen the young Brandon, as if he’d run off just moments before.”

For a moment Edwyna saw her mothers brows twitch together, a hesitancy in her eyes, but that quickly changed at the next intruder into their room.

“My Lady! My Stark, I—Oh, Pardon me Maester Walys, I did not mean to hit you with the door just then..." An older woman rushed in, a harried look on her stern face. "My sincere apologies, but I must speak with Lady Stark, I must—oh, Brandon!”

“Goodness, but it’s becoming quite a gathering in here. You’d think my solar was the Great Hall but for the lack of drunken lords.” Her mother jested quickly, before she could say anything else, and the tension in the rooms dissipated some. “Kenna, you are just in time, truly. Maester Walys seems to think that my son has stollen from him, a truly _ridiculous_ claim considering you left him with me just an hour ago, isn’t that right?”

“An hour? Oh! Yes, just an hour ago it was, must’ve slipped my mind for a moment there. Left him just there on the rug to…to do his letters, of course!”

“What? But just a half-hour ago…”

“Oh, yes, see Maester Walys I was only asking to make sure he’d not run off from his mother in the half-hour since I’d left him, which is of course his way.” Kenna gave a little glare at the boy in mention. “If you’d said, ‘aye, I’ve seen him’ then I’d know to go right back to Lady Stark as he’d quite obviously gotten away again. But no, you said, so I went on my merry way to put little Ned in the nursery, safe of mind that the young lord was with his mother where I’d left him.”

“Ah.” The Maester said with clear disbelief. “Well that sums it up quite nicely doesn't it? My mistake Lady Stark, I shall continue my search elsewhere.”

The Maester gave one last long look around the room, no doubt searching for signs of the hidden book. Before he left he gave young Brandon and Edwyna a pointed look. “I expect I shall find it back on my desk where I’d left it tomorrow morning. It’s quite a difficult book to read after all.”

“Perhaps Maester Walys, although misplaced things don’t often get up and walk back under our noses. Mayhap's you’ll remember where you left it however.” The Maester didn’t respond to Lady Starks needling, and left them with a quiet closing of the door. Silence reigned for some time after he’d left, until Edwyna broke the silence.

“You’re the best, Brandon.” She said and hugged him tightly, “Thank you! I knew you could do it. Did the lock open just like I said it would?”

“It was amazing, Wynnie! How did you know it would do that?”

“Well we all have the same lock on our doors, don’t we? It wasn’t so hard to figure.”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Kenna interrupted, “Just because I covered for you with Maester Walys does not mean you’ll get off easy with me! Why I ought to put the switch to you for giving me such a scare Brandon Stark! Now come here and stand in this corner until I give my say so.”

Brandon looked at Lady Stark hopefully but she just rose her brow at him and said nothing. With his mothers complicit approval his shoulders slumped and he rose, mumbling, “Yes Kenna. Sorry Kenna…”

As he stood in the corner under Kenna’s harsh eye Lady stark turned to Edwyna. “How _did_ he get into the Maesters room with it locked?”

“Wynnie gave me this piece of wire and—ow! Kenna!”

“Face the wall or I will just have to make you face the wall Brandon Stark. Lady Stark was asking lady Edwyna.”

“Yes Kenna. Sorry Kenna…”

“Well…” Edwyna started hesitantly, “I did give him a wire. I had him get it from the blacksmiths last time he went there with father, and then I just bent it until it was just so. All he had to do was push it through the crack in the door, slide it up until it hit the latch and then when he pulled it up more the metal bar would go with it and then he could push the door open.”

“Clever girl.” Her mother said with a laugh of astonishment.

Edwyna gave her a smile, relieved her mother hadn’t looked at her as Kenna often did when she explained herself, like she was strange. “Can I read my book now?”

With a nod Lady Stark retrieved the book from the wardrobe and read it aloud. “Winter's Kings, or the Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell, a compilation by the distinguished Maester Childer. Heavy reading for a five year old…”

Eagerly Edwyna took the book from her mothers hands, “It’s not so hard, I already started reading it earlier but then Maester Walys told me it was much too hard for _me_ and took it away, even after I read it aloud!”

Brandon scoffed from his position in the corner. “Should be called Maester Wanker instead of Maester Walys—ow!”

“Honestly, where did you here such a dirty word? Say that again and I’ll get the soap.”

“Yes Kenna. Sorr—”

“Alright, alright enough of that.”

Lady Stark laughed quietly at the bickering of her son and nursemaid. She looked to her daughter diligently reading, so engrossed the interaction surely hadn’t even registered. Her smile slowly slid away as she watched her clever daughter, too intelligent by far and just as innocent. She’d seen the way Kenna had looked at her just now, and she’d speak of it with her later that was for sure, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. Lady Stark hoped such looks would become less and less common as she grew older and her overactive intelligence became less obvious, but it was unlikely. Her daughters pale eyes shone red in the light of the fire, as red as the weeping eyes of the weirwood tree.

 

—

 

That night Edwyna lay in the nursery and listened as her brother tossed and turned as he always did. He always took forever to fall asleep, always so restless and full of energy while she was as still as the dead next to him. The six month old Lyanna had finally fallen asleep in her small crib and Ned was softly breathing in the bed a ways away. Kenna, their nursemaid, had fallen asleep in her rocking chair beside the fireplace, and soon she’d snort herself away and haul herself into the bed with Ned, ready at a moment notice should any of the children cry out for something. Or, in Brandons case, should he try to escape to the kitchens for late night snacks for he and Edwyna.

“Brandon,” Edwyna whispered and he turned towards her immediately. “I almost told mother today. About the dreams.”

Brandons eyes widened and shone in the dark. “Why didn’t you? Mother will understand. Maybe she has dreams too!”

“Maybe…” Edwyna mumbled, skeptical at first but then nodding to herself, “I’ll tell her tomorrow. Maybe she’ll know how to stop them, or what they mean.”

“Why would you wanna stop them?” Brandon said growing dangerously loud, “I love your dreams. The place of metal and steel and fires that never go out…it’s like the tales Old Nan tells.”

Edwyna shushed him quietly, “Yes _you_ love them because they don’t happen to _you._ I think their scary and too _real_ to be like Old Nans tales. I don’t like them and they make my head hurt.”

With a sullen finality she turned her back to him, regretting starting the conversation in the first place. Her eyes remained open and staring into the fire however, as she feared falling back into those terrifying, confusing dreams.

“M’sorry” Her brother whispered and lay his forehead against her back, “If they hurt then they should definitely go away. I don’t want you to hurt…I heard if we both fall asleep at the same time I can jump from my dreams to yours. Then I can fight them away for you!”

“I like that idea.” Edwyna giggled and turned towards him, holding out her pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise?” He asked looking confused as she reached forward and interlocked their pinky fingers.

“It’s when we put our pinky’s together, like this, and make our promise. It makes it binding.”

“Alright…” Brandon still looked confused but he tightened his grip around her pinky. “I pinky promise. I’ll protect you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”


	3. 268 AC: A Conversation Overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With swift steps she saw her father turn tail and slam through the door that connected their rooms without another word. Lyarra turned and promptly slumped into the armchair beside the fireplace.
> 
> Now that she was sitting Edwyna could clearly see her face but, as she saw it crumple into despair, she wished that she could not.
> 
> There would be no telling her mother about the dreams tonight. There would be no telling her ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who left kudos and comments!  
> Here is the next chapter, which for now is still focusing on introducing Edwyna and developing her relationships with the other Starks. Also, I hope I write Brandon as a convincing six year old, I don't have much interaction with children but I think I've done alright with not making his vocabulary too large. Edwyna I'm not too worried about since she's supposed to be strangely intelligent, but I do try to keep her from sounding like a grown woman.  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

268 AC

 

In the end Edwyna didn’t speak of her dreams to her mother the next day, or the day after that, or even the _week_ after that. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, nearly half a year had passed, including Brandon and hers' sixth name day, and still she hadn't gathered the courage to speak the truth to her mother. And, despite their pinky promise, her brother hadn’t been able to fight off her night terrors for her. Night terrors which, as of late, had grown increasingly difficult to ignore...or more importantly, increasingly difficult to  _truly_ wake up from. She'd often find herself drifting off during her waking hours, dreams melding with reality in a confusing jumble that confused and disoriented her. Just last week she'd woken to her brothers' shaking, eyes open but still dreaming, and had recognized neither him nor her own name for near on an hour. She thanked the gods her brother was the talker, as she was sure there would've been trouble had she needed to speak in that hour of confusion. She knew her mother was her only hope for an answer but...despite her surety that night almost five months ago, her bravery always seemed to melt away come morning. Something her brother was very unhappy with her for.

“Wynnie? Wynnie!” Her brother shook her about the shoulders until her eyes focused on him, “We need to go. Maester Walys will have our heads if we’re late again, and Kenna’s already angry at us for slipping her eye. I’m sure Ned’s told her where we are by now, the little bugger.”

"Ned just doesn't like it when we break the rules..." She automatically defended, ignoring his cursing as she always did. Honestly, she really didn't know where he learned those words...certainly wasn't from her. Mother always said cursing was for the weak of mind and the poor of heart, though she didn't think that applied to her brother. He was an exception to most rules it seemed.

“How long were you calling for me?” She said, taking a moment to ground herself and shake off her unwilling daydream. They both were standing by the window in the bell tower on the west side of Winterfell, where she and Brandon had escaped to play away from strict Kenna and rule abiding Ned. Kenna didn't like it when they played games she'd never heard of, like Simon Says and Mother May I. She'd asked her once where she'd heard of the games, and Edwyna regretted telling her the truth. She'd only looked at her and told her she shouldn't lie when she had said 'everyone knows them.'

“Just a moment or two…” Brandon said as he knocked his shoulder with hers to loosen her up, “Where were you this time?”

With a wince Edwyna rubbed her head, “Here, but not here, as usual.”

“Oh,” Brandon said, slightly disappointed at the short answer, and Edwyna sighed before elaborating.

“There were monsters…in the fields beyond Winterfells' walls, eating all the crops. They were made of metal, with _huge_ teeth and mouthes that breathed smoke.” Brandon stared at her eagerly at that and she rolled her eyes and reached for his hand, pulling him toward the door that led out of the bell tower towards the courtyard. “C’mon, I’ll tell you more later. Right now we need to get to Maester Walys before Kenna catches up to us and yells our ears off.”

“You don’t have to…” Her brother said hesitantly as he stopped her in the doorway, “If you don’t want to I mean...sometimes you look as if it hurts to tell me.”

“No, it’s fine…” She said with a big forced smile, “I just…don’t want anyone to hear. They think me strange enough already.”

He nods and smiles back, and for a moment she’s glad her brother is so much younger than her, so he doesn’t see through her fake smiles and platitudes.

 _What a strange thought,_ She thinks, _we’re twins, he’s not younger than me. He was born first in truth._

“You talked to mother yet?” Brandon asks, stirring her from her unwelcome thoughts.

“I will,” She replies with a sigh, “tomorrow.”

“Wynnie!” Her brother huffs, exactly as he has every time they have this conversation, “You said that last week!”

“Well that was last week, now I _really_ mean it.”

“You said that before too.” Now her brother actually looked a bit angry with her and Edwyna squeezes his hand in hers until he looks at her, still pouting. “You’ve been saying you’ll talk to her for _months_. We're _six_ now Wynnie!”

“I will tell her...” She offers again, more sincerely this time, “...but we need to be _alone_.”

“Pinky promise?”

“…Pinky promise.”

The promise sat like Old Nans oat cakes in her stomach, heavy and regretful. She was so focused on her dread over speaking with her mother about her dreams, that she didn’t notice the grey clothed figure that moved quickly out of sight as they left and ran towards the learning rooms.

 

—

 

The night after she made her pinky promise with Brandon, her brother shook her awake with a stubborn look on his face, and she knew she wasn’t going to get out of her promise.

“How are you going to get mother alone?” Her brother asked once she’d pried her eyelids open and checked that Kenna was asleep.

“Brandon…” She groaned in one last ditch effort to throw him off, “I want to sleep.”

But Brandon shook her shoulder once more to force her to open her eyes. “You promised, Wynnie!  _Pinky_ promised. And you’ve hardly been sleeping at all anyways. You toss and turn more than I do lately.”

With a great sigh Edwyna stopped her struggle to turn over and go back to sleep and nodded. He was right after all, her dreams had been worse lately. “Alright…I’ll need to sneak out.”

Immediately her brothers face lit up. “Sneak out?”

“Yes,” She gave a small grin at his enthusiasm, “The only time mother’s ever alone is at night, so I’ll have to find her then…the problem is I don’t know when she goes to bed.”

They both frowned at that, thinking on how to solve the problem. Or Edwyna was anyway, Brandon was mostly staring out the window thinking about how fun it would be to break into someones room again.

“Maybe if we ask Kenna when mother sleeps? No she’d definitely think us up to something and—Brandon are you even trying to think up ideas?”

“Wha—of course I am! I was just…” Brandon yawned and shrugged, “I was just thinking uh, that the moon is very…pretty.”

“Right. The moon is very pretty.” Edwyna scoffed and rolled her eyes towards the window with a sigh at her brother. Her eyes widened as she looked out the window and realized something.

“The window looks down on the courtyard!” She whispered loudly at her realization.

“So?” Brandon said in confusion.

Edwyna hit his arm, “So the courtyard connects to the godswood, and you know mother always goes there before she sleeps. If we watch from the window we’ll have to see her when she comes back through the courtyard to the great keep!”

Brandon gave a noise of understanding and nodded quickly, “Then we can sneak in before she gets there and wait for her in her room! See, that’s why you’ll be my Maester when I’m Lord of Winterfell. You always think up the good plans!”

Edwyna shushed his growing voice, but giggled all the same. This was a familiar topic for their late night conversations. “I’ll be the best Maester ever, way better than Maester Walys, and you’ll be the best Lord of Winterfell because everyone will listen to you and your _super_ strong.”

At her words Brandon grabbed her hand and linked their pinkies together, “And no one will ever call you strange, 'cause I'll hit 'em with a sword if they do, and I’ll never have to sit and read boring books, ‘cause _you’ll_ do that for me.”

They both dissolved into giggles at their promise, pinkies still linked, when a loud snort startled them into putting their hands over their mouths. Carefully Edwyna looked over at Kennas’ sleeping form and, seeing her still asleep, she poked her brother in the ribs and giggled again when he jerked and slapped her hand.

“So when do we do it?” Her brother whispered, more careful about his volume now.

Edwyna hesitated at that and her smile dropped a little, “Maybe…maybe it’d be better if I did this alone.”

“But we _always_ sneak out together.” He protested.

“Not always…” Edwyna said, “You broke into Maester Walys’ room alone.”

“That was different…” Her brother mumbled with a scowl.

“I just think it’ll be easier this way and…I want to talk to her alone.”

With a sigh her brother slowly nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it. Edwyna knew it was the safer choice, but as they both settled down to sleep she couldn't help the fear that sat low in her belly. She'd never snuck out without Brandon before...although she certainly had snuck back _in_ without him.

So, the next night she’d stayed up and looked down on the moonlit courtyard from her window, waiting and watching for when her mother and her guards returned to the castle. Once she saw her mothers figure at the far end of the courtyard, she sprang from bed and quietly made for the door, trying valiantly to calm her heartbeat.

Edwyna hastily looked behind her to double check that Kenna was still sound asleep beside Ned as she crept towards the nursery door. Her twin gave her an encouraging wave from where he lay with his back to a large, pillow created lump. Hopefully if Kenna woke up to settle Lyanna, or get Ned a glass of water, then the ruse would fool her into thinking she was still in bed. As long as she didn’t look too closely she knew she’d be fine. After all, it was Brandon who usually was caught out like this, and _Brandon_ was clearly still in bed.

The heavy door shut behind her, latch sliding into place quietly thanks to a well placed piece of cloth to muffle it. She skittered down the hallway quickly, keeping her hand to the wall to avoid stumbling in the dark. She didn’t dare bring a lamp with her to light the way, she knew how easily she’d be discovered if even one person was haunting the halls at this hour.

All she had to do was get to her mothers room before she returned, and then wait until she dismissed her guards and handmaiden so she could speak with her alone…about her dreams…just like she’d promised Brandon she would. She sighed and walked slower in apprehension. She almost _wanted_ to get caught.

Finally she arrived at her mothers room, and a quick peak at the darkness of the crack between the frame and door told her that she had not yet arrived back to light the lamps. She slipped her bent wire from the sleeve of her shirt, the same one she’d given Brandon all those nights ago to break into Maester Walys’ room. For some reason her mother hadn’t taken the tool from her when she’d explained how she’d gotten Brandon into his room, and she suspected that it had something to do with a plan to change the locks. She just hoped that her mother hadn’t had the time to put her plan into action.

Pushing the wire in and up, Edwyna held her breath until she felt the heaviness of the latch on her wire lift. With a little cry of victory she pulled the wire further up carefully, pushing on the door at the same time until finally she felt the latch get high enough that the door opened.

Although the door gave an awful creak that made Edwyna wince, she had no problems getting into her mothers room and re-locking it. The real trouble came with finding a place to hide until her mother was alone, and she swept quick eyes around as she thought.

Under the bed was too conspicuous, as with the covers tucked under the mattress as they were she knew that anyone that looked towards the bed would see her hiding there in the shadows. She briefly considered the curtains but then rolled her eyes at herself, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice her feet peaking out from under them. The wardrobe was obviously out, as her handmaiden would go there to lay out bed clothes upon entering the room but…her eyes landed on the chest at the foot of the bed, long and rectangular and a good two feet deep.

 _Perfect_ , She thought with a smile as she pushed the lid up. Just as in the nursery there were only folded blankets at the bottom. She quickly piled all the blankets on one side and climbed in to the now empty side of the chest, carefully pulling the lid down. She reconsidered though when the darkness settled around her, and slotted the edge of one of the blankets between the lid and edge of the chest to keep it cracked open.

Soon, though not soon enough for the cramped feeling little girl, muffled voices were heard coming down the corridor. Her heart beat stuttered in her chest as the door opened, but it nearly stopped altogether at the voice she heard first.

“Lyarra,” It was her fathers’ voice, deep and sounding slightly worried, “You really must stop visiting the godswood so late. I worry for your safety.”

There was a scoff from her mother, “If you’re so worried then you should come with me, to ensure my _safety_. Otherwise, I have guards. Lovely men, have you met them?”

A sigh, deeply annoyed and growing closer to her hiding spot. She saw her fathers knees through the crack in the chest and hurried to cover her mouth, fearful he’d hear her breathing. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by her _father._ She’d rather be caught by Maester Walys.

“I know your reasons for avoiding the godswood. And you know my reasons for visiting it.” Her mother said testily from somewhere by the bed, likely putting on the bedclothes left out by the servants. “Lets leave it at that shall we?”

For the first time it occurred to Edwyna what her father was doing here instead of in his own room.

_He was here to stay the night!_

She didn’t know why, but absolute horror rose in her gut at that thought. She dismissed it as a fear of having to stay cramped in the uncomfortable chest all night to avoid discovery, but it didn’t feel quite accurate for some reason.

“Yes, well, our disagreements over the godswood is not why I came here tonight, Lyarra,” Her father started again after a moment. “We must speak of Edwyna. Maester Walys has brought something to my attention and—”

“And what? What has that little _weasel_ said about her now?” Her mother had stopped whatever she had been doing by the bed and strode up to stand by Lord Stark. Edwyna could see her grey night dress bunch beneath the hands that clenched it, and wished more than ever that she could see their faces.

“He is the Maester of Winterfell.”Her father said admonishingly.“You should know not to speak of him that way.”

“I shall speak well of him when he learns to speak of _my children_ as if they are more than pawns in his southern scheming.” Lady Stark said mildly. Her father huffed and turned towards the fire that had been lit by the servants, all who had eagerly left upon seeing him.

“Nevertheless, I have no reason to doubt what he has said.” Lord Stark said quietly, “And what he has said…is quite disconcerting. I believe it might be for the best if we separated her and Brandon, to keep him from…undue influences.”

Edwyna froze, fear a sharp spike of ice in her heart. _Seperate...?_

“ _Seperate_ them? Are you _mad_ , they’re _twins_ , brother and sister. What is it that she’s done now that has upset him so? Completed a book too quickly? Solved an arithmetic question without being told how to do it?” Her mother sounded more worked up than Edwyna had ever heard her, and her stomach dropped with every word. “She is _intelligent._ Is that so very strange? If she was a boy you’d be extolling her accomplishments and calling for her to become a Maester!”

“That’s enough! You are my lady wife but you _will_ hold your tongue!” Edwyna covered a gasp at the outburst, shaking. “And _yes,_ she is intelligent. But that is not all she is, and you know it well. The things she _says_ sometimes…”

Her mother remained quiet, though her figure was tense and her hands shaking. Her father came closer to her and put his hands upon her arms gently in a mild apology for his outburst. “Just the other day Lyarra…I was sitting in on their weekly lesson. Maester Walys was just explaining the Pox to them, on account of Kennas’ son-in-law having come down with it recently and…”

With a wince Edwyna knew what was coming next. She remembered her father sitting in on that particular lesson, how Maester Walys had described the disease that had taken their stable master and Kennas’ son-in-law from them, leaving young Wylis without a father. He’d told them how little could be done, nothing to do but make them comfortable and wait for them to survive it, or die.

Her brain had just _connected_ somehow, all the pieces fitting together, and just like her arithmetic problems she’d just _known_ how to solve the problem. She’d wanted to show off for her father, to show him she was smart and could _help,_ but she ended up making a fool of herself instead.

“Edwyna came right out and said _no_ , all one had to do was give them _cowpox,_ of all things, and then they’d never get the Pox in the first place. Maester Walys was quick to admonish her of course, telling her that giving someone one disease to keep them from getting a completely different disease was ridiculous and dangerous. Edwyna became cross with him immediately and then...it was almost as if she was speaking in tongues. I didn’t recognize the words she was using at all…”

Pale and ashen within the chest, Edwyna struggled to breath normally behind her clasped palms at his words. She’d only wanted to impress him, to _help,_ and instead she just made him think her stranger than he did before. 

 _“Cowpox immunizes people from getting the Pox.”_ She’d said, _“You’re a Maester, a doctor, you should know that already! But you don’t, because you’re all stupid here: you don’t even know about germs!”_

“What do you mean speaking in _tongues._ ” Her mother said with apprehension. She’d placed a hand on her husbands, perhaps needing the support. Edwyna shook with fear that her mother would agree with her father, that she’d be taken from Brandon, the only one who has ever believed her and not thought her _strange_.

“She spoke of something called _germs_ , said they were little bugs too small to see, and that they were all around us." Her father gave an awful sounding laugh at that, a sound that made Edwyna cringe. "She said these germs were what made people sick…she sounded _mad_ Lyarra, and after that disturbing display, I have no reason to disbelieve Maester Walys’ words.”

“…And what were his words?” Her mother said tightly.

“That same day, he left in search of them when they did not show up for their lesson on time, I remember as I was there waiting for them. He found them in the bell tower.” _Oh no,_ Edwyna thought with growing horror, _He heard, he must have!_

“He told me Edwyna spoke of having…being here but 'not here.' Of seeing great monsters of metal and smoke out in the fields beyond Winterfell. Do you not think that is _strange_ Lyarra? Do you not understand why I want them separated? Brandon _believed_ her madness, even encouraged it! They are not good for each other!”

Edwyna breathed heavily through her hands, near hyperventilating in her panic. She hadn’t meant for him to hear that, she had thought there was no one near. She’d messed up, simple as that.

 _They’ll never let me near Brandon or Lyanna or Ned ever again!_ She thought with a little sob, _Mother is going to agree with him and I’ll be sent away somewhere and I’ll never get to play Swords and Maidens with them or trick Brandon with Simon Says, or—_

“By the gods, Rickard!” Her mother exclaimed, throwing his hands from her arms and breaking Edwyna from her panic. “She is barely _six._ She was likely just _playing._ Children have imaginations, they love tales of monsters and magic, and Old Nan only feeds into that imagination…Is it any wonder that she creates her own worlds to play in when everyone around her calls her strange, even her own father?”

There was silence after her mothers outburst, and hope bloomed in Edwynas’ chest. Her mother was angry, not complicit, her fury not abated in the slightest as she gestured wildly. “Maester Walys is obsessed with tales of his own, _my lord._ He looks at my child, my _six_ _year old_ child, and he sees in her eyes a Targaryen _bastard_ , of all things.”

Lady Stark laughs cynically at this, her slippered feet pacing a hole into the floor in front of her frozen husband, “Do not think I don’t know what he thinks of me, of my first born children! He whispers of my _infidelity_ with some Bloodraven descendent, some son of a whore in moles town that grew up and _seduced_ me from your arms! _That_ is madness Rickard! If he believes such _lies,_ how can you listen to anything that leaves his lips!”

She turned from her pacing to look her deathly still husband in the eyes, breathing heavily from her tirade. What she sees there must anger her further however, as her fists clench. “You…tell me _you_ do not believe these lies, Rickard?”

There was a long pause in which the tension in the room begins to feel suffocating, and then, “No. No, Brandon is the spitting image of me—“

A slap rang throughout the room, startling Edwyna who did not see her mothers hand move. Though she could not see their faces, she was sure her mother had hit her father across the cheek. The implication of her fathers words hung heavy in the air, just as much as her mothers physical display of anger did.

“Get out.” Lady Stark raised her hand again, but did not hit him, “How _dare_ you! How dare you even _think_ that Edwyna is not your daughter! Get. Out!”

With swift steps Edwyna saw her father turn tail and slam through the door that connected their rooms without another word. Lyarra turned and promptly slumped into the armchair beside the fireplace.

Now that she was sitting Edwyna could clearly see her face but, as she saw it crumple into despair, she wished that she could not.

There would be no telling her mother about the dreams tonight. There would be no telling her _ever._

 

—

 

Eventually her mother fell asleep in her chair, crying deep into the night until the fireplace had long gone cold and black. Edwyna had cried with her, had worried she’d be heard and stuffed a blanket in her mouth to keep quiet, but her mother never heard anything beyond her own cries.

It was near midnight when she finally found the courage to creep out of the chest on shaking, cramping legs, but creep she did. She knew she could not stay there and be caught, especially after what she’d just seen. As she neared the door she stopped and looked back at the huddled figure of her mother on the chair, shivering now that the fire had gone out. With trepidation she grabbed one of the blankets from the chest and carefully placed in on what little of her mothers huddled form she cold reach, despite how easily it could’ve gotten her caught.

In the morning her mother would awaken to her handmaiden coming in, and she’d assume it was she that placed the blanket there. In the morning Brandon would wake to the red rimmed eyes of his sister, and all Edwyna would be able to do is cry. In the morning Kenna would wake and rush to soothe her, and Edwyna would say it was just a nightmare, and Brandon wouldn't believe her but Kenna would. They’d all dress and break their fast at a silent and tense table with their mother and father, and everything would, for all intents and purposes, return to normal. 

But for now Edwyna tried not to think about who this ‘Bloodraven’ was, or what ‘son of a whore’ meant, or if she’d be taken somewhere and never see her siblings again. Instead, she focused on getting back to the nursery unnoticed, crawling in next to her snoring sibling, and staring at the wall until dawn came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I'm not making the 'dreams' too confusing, but next chapter should really clear it up. Keep in mind that, though smart, Edwyna is still a child which is why she thinks she can become a Maester because she doesn't realize it is an impossibility. Oh and Ned is a bit of a tattle tail...oops. It just seemed to fit his honor first, rule abiding personality. They all still love each other though, even if they don't always get along.
> 
> Next chapter will also have Ned and baby Lyanna interactions! Yay!
> 
> Constructive criticism and/or reactions to my writing are welcome and appreciated!


	4. 268 AC: An Ambition Realized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did everyone think she was so strange? Why was everything she did wrong and ‘odd?’ Why did Maester Walys want her gone? Why were having red eyes so terrible? Why did Father think—whywhywhywhy—
> 
> “I am sorry, Edwyna. I know…things have been hard lately. And what I’m asking must seem strange…” Edwyna continued to avoid her mothers eye, worried she may blurt her angry thoughts out loud should she look up. But Lady Stark was insistent, and with firm hands she forced Edwyna to raise her face again. “But I need you to understand how important this is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I didn't post last week, but I read over all my chapters and decided to reorder some things and do some editing...I'll definitely post another one sometime soon to make up for it though :) Especially since this is more a filler and character building chapter. 
> 
> Things that I edited in the last two chapters btw: somehow I accidentally called Rickard Rodrik last chapter, so I fixed that. Rodrik is the captain at arms for Winterfell, as he was in the books, and will come in later. Also there were a few instances in the second chapter where I called Kenna 'lady Kenna' by accident so I took that out. She is not a lady. Just a servant. You learn more about her here, although I have hinted before that she has a grandson whose name is Wylis...who some of you may recognize from the show...

268 AC

 

Edwyna stepped into her mothers solar, nauseous with anxiety at what she might hear upon entering. It’d been a week since her night time venture into her mothers room, and still the words she’d heard that night rang unfettered through her sleep deprived mind. She hadn’t wanted to sleep for fear of dreaming things that would cause her trouble. Her days were a haze of tightly controlled actions and words around everyone but her brother.

She lived in fear of one day waking up and being shipped off to somewhere else, alone and without her family, to live in exile for her strangeness…

“Edwyna…” Her mothers voice rang from her sitting chair, where she was being fussed over by a servant with cool damp cloths. She seemed wane and pale where she sat, shakily holding a cup of steaming tea to her lips looking deeply tired. There was a strong medicinal smell in the air, and Edwyna looked to the open kerchief full of tea leaves on the table beside her, wondering what was in the tea that smelt so awful. Another servant rushed past where Edwyna stood in the doorway, a chamberpot held carefully in her hands.

“Mother, are you well?” A different fear than the one she’d entered with rose in Edwynas’ stomach. It had only been a fortnight since the Citadel had announced winter, but already the ponds froze and snow dusted the ground. Although this was the first winter that she could remember, she’d heard stories all her life of what winter could bring. Death. 

“Are you…sick?”

Surprisingly her mother only laughed, “No, no I am well, I promise. It is just an unsettled stomach, it will pass come midday.”

“Oh…” Edwyna said, quietly relieved but also not entirely convinced. She wondered at the phrasing…why would it pass by midday? Was there an illness that only came in the morning? Something tickled at her mind, a feeling she wasn't unfamiliar with, and she pushed it away. She didn't have time right now for strange thoughts that made no sense. They always got her in trouble when she said them out loud anyways.

“Did you see the Maester?” She pressed with worry. She might not like him, and obviously he her, but she knew Maesters were the only ones who could stop a sickness. 

“Yes,” Her mother sighed as she tied up the kerchief with the remaining tea leaves. It was quite a nice one, silk with a delicate embroidery of flowers upon its center, “He is the one who sent the tea after all.”

Edwyna came closer as her mother set the kerchief down, admiring the careful embroidery with a tracing finger. It looked familiar, as if she’d seen it before. 

“It’s quite pretty isn’t it?” Her mother said with a hint of disdain, startling Edwyna into pulling her hand back from the embroidery, “The flowers I mean. He has them added to most of his things, I’m sure you’ve seen them before.”

“Oh!” Edwyna says with realization as she nods, “Yes, they were on his robes I think…on the inside of his sleeve. I saw it once when Brandon—I mean when Maester Walys spilled ink on himself by accident…”

Lady Stark raises a brow at that but doesn’t comment otherwise, and Edwyna sighs in relief. Her nervousness is making her sloppy. 

“What kind of flowers are they?” Edwyna asked to cover the growing awkward silence that surrounded her slip.

With a sigh her mother dismissed the remaining servant in the room and gestured for Edwyna to come sit upon her lap. “Come here Edwyna, we must speak of something.” 

Edwyna blushed at her mothers obvious avoidance of her question, thinking it quite rude, but complied nonetheless and curled into her mothers lap. The comfort of her mothers arms soothed the light embarrassment of being snubbed, but her nervous anxiety could not be subdued.

As nerves rose thick in her throat with the stretching silence, Edwyna felt an immediate compulsion to cling to her mothers neck and never let go. She wanted to hide her face and cover her ears, lest she hear the words she’d dreaded all week fall from her mothers lips.

“I’ve heard you have quite the imagination,” Lady Stark began, causing Edwynas’ stomach to drop to her feet. “Maester Walys says you’ve been…telling some extraordinary stories.”

Mouth pressed shut, Edwyna forced herself not to cling too tightly to her mother and give herself away. Instead she only nodded, as her throat was far too tight to speak.

“I know it’s fun to imagine things Edwyna, and I’m sure Brandon loves your stories…” Lady Stark sighed and pulled Edwyna from her neck to look into her face, “However, you mustn’t speak of these things any longer. Not where others may hear you and…especially not where Maester Walys may hear you. Do you understand?”

Edwyna looked down, avoiding her mothers eyes as she nodded. She didn’t understand much about the conversation she’d heard just last week, but what she did understand was Maester Walys’ intentions towards her. She wouldn’t make the mistake of speaking of her dreams in public twice.

Sitting there curled around her mother she felt more and more confused and…and angry. She was angry, truly angry. If Brandon were here in her place feeling this way she was sure he’d open his mouth and say something he’d regret. But she was not her brother, and instead she pressed her lips together and let her thoughts rage within her head. She wanted to ask why it was so terrible that she saw these things. She wanted to say that she didn’t just imagine them, that they were real and she _wasn’t_ strange. But she didn’t know that did she? She didn’t know they were real and, whether she wanted to be or not, she _was_ strange.

 _Why_ did everyone think she was so strange? _Why_ was everything she did wrong and ‘odd?’ _Why_ did Maester Walys want her gone? _Why_ were having red eyes so terrible? _Why_ did Father think— _whywhywhywhy—_

“I am sorry, Edwyna. I know…things have been hard lately. And what I’m asking must seem strange…” Edwyna continued to avoid her mothers eye, worried she may blurt her angry thoughts out loud should she look up. But Lady Stark was insistent, and with firm hands she forced Edwyna to raise her face again. “But I need you to understand how important this is.”

Edwyna did understand. She knew what would happen if Maester Walys could convince her father she was mad as well as strange. 

_"Do you not understand why I want them separated? Brandon believed her madness, even encouraged it! They are not good for each other!"_

But she couldn’t tell her mother that, and so she had to settle for a firm and solemn affirmation. 

“I understand Mother.” She whispered quietly, “I won’t tell any more…stories.”

“Good. That’s good.” Her mother sighed in relief, and pressed Edwyna to her chest in a tight unyielding hug. The tension of the moment seeped away with the gesture, and Edwyna’s anger diminished quickly with her mothers firm affection leaving only weariness in its place. 

Comfortable and drained from the heavy conversation, Edwyna looked up to find her mothers’ eyes straying to the table beside them. She looked sad but determined as she picked up the embroidered kerchief that held her tea leaves. For a moment Edwyna thought she’d call for another cup of tea to be made, but Lady Stark only continued to scrutinize the blue and white embroidered flowers.

“You never answered before,” Edwyna finally cautioned to say, curiosity winning out over her weariness, “When I asked what flowers they were, I mean.”

There was a long silence where Edwyna thought her mother would once again snub her questioning, but then she spoke, low and quiet.

“Hollyhock,” Her mother said, finger tracing the long stem of the blue hollyhock that curled around a bright white flower, “And Chamomile.”

“Why does he like them so much?” She asked quietly, “To put them on everything he owns…they must be special.”

“Perhaps it is because his original surname was Flowers,” Her mother said with a scoff, “But I think it more likely he covets them for their meaning. Do you know what it is?”

Edwyna shook her head, a dread replacing her curiosity at her mothers tone of voice.

“Ambition.” Lady Stark bit out. “And patience.”

 

—

 

“Now would be the perfect time Wynnie…”

Edwyna shushed her brother and hurried her steps after the rest of their group, who strode ahead of them towards the gate leading away from the Great Keep. The winds are quiet today and the sun out and warming her skin against the chill in the air. She tries to ignore her brothers needling and enjoy what is sure to be the last warm day for quite some time, now that Winter has been announced by the Citadel.

“Kenna wouldn’t even notice!” Brandon continues unheeded. “And it’s not like we’d be going somewhere _dangerous_.”

“You say that every time Brandon,” Edwyna scowled, “Even if we’re going to the broken tower.”

“This is different…I only want to see Old Nan.” Brandon huffed as he crossed his arms. His pitiful display of anger towards her would not move Edwyna today however. “Why are you being like this? You always wanna sneak away. You’ve been acting like Ned all week!”

“I don’t want to get in trouble. Kenna would surely notice if we disappeared. She’s been like a hawk lately…” Edwyna said with finality, looking wearily towards Kennas’ back a ways ahead of them. “And there’s nothing wrong with being more like Ned…he _never_ gets in trouble.”

“So what? You never used to care about getting in trouble.” Brandon whined and grabbed her arm, stopping her at last and forcing her to turn towards him. 

Edwyna watches nervously as Kenna’s figure grows ever smaller in the distance, distracted by little Lyanna valiantly trying to escape her arms. Ned dutifully follows at her side, never thinking to look back at them, just expecting them to be following as well.

“Don’t you want to find out who Bloodraven is?”

“Brandon!” Edwyna said harshly, tugging her arm from his grasp, “Don’t say that name out loud…someone might hear you!”

Brandon scowled “Maybe then we’d get an answer! Maybe then we'd know why Father wants you to leave!”

“We’re not supposed to even know that, I only know because I was spying you—you!” Edwyna cried, heedless of the strength of her own voice and failing to find an adequate insult. “If Maester Walys finds out…or worse if _Father_ finds out…”

There’s a moment of quiet and the unspoken fear that had been on their minds all week ran heavy through their bones.

_They’ll separate us…_

Edwyna clenched her tiny fists, remembering the terror she’d felt the day after her night time sojourn into her mothers room. How her brother had to prod and needle her all day before she’d broken down and told him what she’d heard that night. He’d been as confused as she was to who Bloodraven was, other than some 'Targaryen bastard,' but he’d understood just as well as she the ramifications of her fathers words.

After her morning talk with her mother, those ramifications had never been clearer. She intended to do just as her mother had told her, she’d be the best, most well behaved child she could be. She would make sure that Father and Maester Walys wouldn’t have a single thing to use against her.

Now if only she could get her brother to understand that.

“Old Nan wouldn’t tell on us!” Her brother persisted, “Not for wanting some old _stories._ ”

“What does it even matter? Why do you _care_ about this so much?” Edwyna hissed. “Knowing who he is won’t _solve anything!”_

In the silence that followed, Edwyna tried and failed to push down the persistent voice in her head from this morning that disputed her own words.

_—whywhywhywhy—_

“I’m not going anywhere.” Edwyna said finally and huffed, ignoring her brothers strange sudden look of horror. “Besides, we don’t even know where Old Nan is, Kenna would catch us for sure if we were to just wonder around.”

“Quite right you are m’lady,” A stern voice said from behind them, startling Edwyna into turning around. “At least one of you two seems to be comin’ round to common sense.”

“K-Kenna!” Edwyna stammered, suddenly understanding her brothers look of horror, “We didn’t mean to fall behind, we just—”

“That’s quite enough,” Kenna sniffed, hands on her hips. As usual she kept her eyes trained intently on Brandon, even when speaking directly to Edwyna. “As if I’d not notice you fallin’ behind…I’ve wised up to your wily ways—there will be no _sneaking_ any longer!”

“Yes Kenna, Sorry Kenna…” Together they spoke the familiar words, although more familiar to Brandon than to Edwyna.

“As you should be.” Kenna nodded just before strutting up and grabbing each of them by their tiny ears, huffing all the way. “Not even out of the nursery and already causin’ this much trouble…”

“But-but Kenna we just wanted to see Old Nan! We haven’t seen her all week…” Brandon said as he tried to squirm away from her hold on his ear.

At this Kenna stopped and looked a bit forlorn, her mouth twisting strangely around her next words, “Old Nan will be staying home and helping keep house from now on. Lord Stark does not think her stories a good…influence on you now that you are nearing an age to leave the nursery.”

Brandon looked confused but Edwyna felt nothing but shame. She knew that Old Nan was being blamed for her overactive ‘imagination,’ and she hated that her father had felt the need to keep her away from Winterfell because of her.

“I’m sorry…” She spoke up, causing Kenna to look at her in surprise, gaze fixed somewhere around her chin. “Will she…be alright? All alone?”

Kenna gave a little smile, a rare thing on her stern face. “Ay she’ll be fine, the old coot acts younger than me sometimes. You’d think as her daughter I’d have inherited some of that liveliness, but she seems to be hoarding it to herself. Besides, she’ll do a lot of good around that house now that my daughter is busy with the stables. Kendra is always out helping Wylis and all, now that his father has gone.”

“You’re Old Nans’ daughter?!” Brandon cried in disbelief, “You look the same age!”

“The same—She’s twenty years my senior! She has a good three hairs on her head!” Kenna huffed, smoothing her grey hair out subconsciously before quickly snatching his and Edwynas’ ears up again in retaliation, “That’s enough out of you! Off we go now.”

“Ow—Kenna _I_ didn’t say anything!” Edwyna cried, her ear burning from Kennas’ pinching fingers.

 

—

 

Whining and pleading the whole way, Edwyna and Brandon were dragged quite literally to the stables where Ned and Lyanna sat waiting for them. Lyanna bounced happily upon the knee of a female servant Edwyna didn’t recognize, but who looked vaguely familiar.

“We’re not going to the godswood?” Brandon said in confusion upon their approach to the stables. “I thought mother was going to meet us there for a walk?”

“Lady Stark has business with her husband.” Kenna said firmly, “We will wait here with my daughter and Wylis until she is ready.”

The twins perked up at that, although for different reasons. Brandon loved visiting the stables Edwyna knew, as he had an insatiable drive to ride the horses there, despite them being near twice his height. She knew he wouldn’t ride them today however, not without Sir Rodrik or father here to ride behind him on the horse.

As for Edwyna, she was excited to see Wylis, the son of their recently departed stable master as well as Kennas’ grandson. He was always kind to her, the few times she’d spoken to him, and he _never_ called her strange when they played games that he’d never heard of. It made sense that he was related to Old Nan, for he had the same kind and gentle demeanor that she had.

“Here the little rascals are,” Kenna said, releasing them before the servant holding Lyanna. “Perhaps with two pairs of eyes we shall have an easier time of keeping them in one place. Or perhaps I should just take some of that rope in the stables there and tie you up, hmm? Would save an old woman a lot of trouble, it would…”

The woman, Kenna’s daughter Edwyna now realized, held the squirming Lyanna and laughed nervously, “Mother really…you should not speak to the Lords children as you do your own—”

“Children are children!” Kenna huffed, cutting her off. Edwyna saw now the face she’d taken as familiar was really just a younger reflection of Kenna’s. And perhaps Old Nans as well, now that she knew they were related. “High or low born, they all wet their nappies just the same. You are too easy on them Kendra.” 

“Honestly…” Her daughter, Kendra, blushed, “I apologize my lady, my lord. But despite my mothers harsh attitude, she only has the best of intentions at heart. You are not yet out of the nursery you see, and it just wouldn’t do for you to run off and hurt yourselves stumbling around Winterfell, you see?”

Edwyna and Brandon nodded dutifully under the harsh glare of Kenna, both shocked at just how different daughter seemed to be from mother. Considering the temperament of Wylis and now Kendra, it seemed that Kenna was the odd one out of the family.

Kenna settled down beside her daughter to rest in the afternoon sun, groaning about ‘old bones’ and ‘disobedient children,’ as Kendra made faces at a giggling Lyanna. Ned was rolling a hoop with a quiet smile just beyond where their chairs stood, but upon hearing his youngest sister giggle he quickly dropped to join in on the fun of making ridiculous faces. Although she looked, Edwyna could not see Wylis anywhere in the area, and she assumed he must be inside the stables tending to the horses.

“Wynnie—” Edwyna scowled and skipped over to join Kendra, Lyanna, and Ned. Brandon gave her a sullen pout at her blatant dismissal, but she knew if she did not ignore him he would never stop with his needling until she broke and helped him run off somewhere. 

“Hello,” Edwyna said with a giggle as she reached over to tickle Lyanna. “You’re getting so big!”

Edwyna sidled up to Ned where he leaned on the arm rest of Kendras chair. He was looking down at Lyanna, a look of pure adoration on his face, one she felt a bit jealous of. 

She remembered the days when her younger brother used to toddle after she and Brandon with that same look, and she knew it was their own fault that he’d stopped. They shouldn’t have excluded him so much lately…but he always told on them whenever they did something they weren’t supposed to, and soon that had led Brandon to insist they leave him out of their schemes.

“Down!” Lyanna said petulantly, squirming violently in Kendras’ arms as she looked at something on the ground a ways away. “Down, want down!”

“Alright little lady, but you be careful hm?” Kendra said as she carefully put an excited Lyanna on the ground. Edwyna inwardly laughed. Lyanna was never careful, she was much the same as Brandon in her need to rush headlong into anything that interested her.

It quickly became apparent that what had caught Lyanna’s interest was Ned’s abandoned hoop that lay on the ground. As she picked it up Edwyna nudged Ned with a bright smile, one he returned hesitantly.

“You wanna play together?” She said nervously. She wasn’t used to being the one to instigate playing after all. Brandon usually did that for her. “You can roll the hoop towards me and then I’ll roll it back and…and Lyanna can be in the middle trying to catch it!”

“Really?” Ned asked with surprise, giving a quick look around before his eyes landed on Brandon. “What about—?”

A ways away Brandon was looking sullenly towards them, but when he made eye contact with Edwyna he gave sneaky look towards the open stable door and then rose his eyebrows at her. Edwyna scowled and stomped over to him, stopping his careful inching towards the door and grabbing his wrist.

“Brandon will play too.” She said with a bright smile. She ignored both her brothers surprised looks at her forwardness and Lyannas’ little yell of delight. “Right, Brandon?” 

“…fine.” Brandon huffed, but she knew he wasn’t as reluctant as he sounded by the way he smiled down at Lyannas’ round face. 

He took his place opposite Edwyna and Ned in a triangle formation, with Lyanna in the middle clapping eagerly as she waited for them to start. With Kenna rocking herself asleep in the chair beside her daughter and the afternoon sun warming the chilly air, the Edwyna allowed herself to forget her troubles for a moment. She let herself enjoy the laughs of her siblings, all playing together for what felt like the first time in ages. 

She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time they…No. She would make sure it wouldn’t be. She’d do as mother says and not speak of her dreams any longer. If she saw something…different, then she’d ignore it. If she woke dazed and confused, still dreaming, then she had Brandon to speak for her. 

Everything would be alright, and they would stay together like this, forever. 

 _"Ambition...and_ _patience."_

Forever. She would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and fear not, there will be more action happening next chapter! Featuring: Wylis and the Heart tree :O


	5. 268 AC: An Icy Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within a moment Brandon had been shoved from Wylis’ grip and stumbled back, foot sliding on melting ice. He reached out, catching just barely on Ned’s shirt to steady himself, but his backwards momentum was too much. They both went tumbling backwards, crashing hard where they fell: onto the frozen puddle that Edwyna had avoided so carefully earlier.
> 
> Unfortunately, it seemed Edwyna was right to avoid it, as the puddle wasn’t quite frozen enough to hold both their weights.
> 
> Edwyna looked down in horror at her now soaked brothers where they sat in the large icy puddle. Kendra looked even more horrified from where she’d risen from her chair a ways away. Wylis just looked shocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters pretty long...but I just couldn't cut it off any earlier than I did without messing up the flow. I had a lot of trouble with that 'flow' of the past two chapters, as originally they were one chapter, but then I re read it and realized it seemed rushed so I expanded it into two. Still feel it seems awkward in places, but I'm pretty happy with it. Enjoy!

268 AC

 

It was some time before Lyanna grew tired of playing with them, but when she did it she let them know in the way most toddlers did. With crying.

“Oh dear,” Kenna said as she snorted awake at the sound of crying, startled to see by the sun that a good hour had passed. Seeing Edwyna valiantly trying to calm a tired and cranky Lyanna in the dirt of the courtyard she sighed, “I suppose its time for Lady Lyanna to be put down for a nap, hmm?”

As she rose from her chair the other Stark children looked half relieved and half disappointed. Although they loved playing with Lyanna, once she grew tired she was a bit of a terror. Their ears thanked Kenna for picking her up and soothing her, even if their hearts wished for her to stay and play longer.

“Kendra dear, Lady Stark should be arriving in another hour or so, but you know how difficult it is to get this one to stay in the crib for a nap...even when she _wants_ to do something she's difficult about it. Keep an eye on them for me while I put Lyanna down? ” Kenna said as she dusted Lyanna off and rocked her against her shoulder. She gave a little glare to Brandon especially, “A very _sharp_ eye.”

“Of course, Mother.” Kendra said with a laugh, “I’ll even fetch Wylis to help me. He should be done cleaning the stables by now.”

Kenna scoffed, “Like that’ll help. Boy’s even softer than you are on them.”

Despite her words she waited until Kendra entered the stables and returned with Wylis, only twelve but tall enough to pass for sixteen. She gave him a pat on the cheek before she left, still rocking the sleepy Lyanna, and told them all to behave themselves.

Edwyna smiled shyly at Wylis as he cleaned his hands in the basin of rain water beside the stable doors. His mother settled herself back into her chair and went back to the knitting she must have picked up sometime while they were playing.

“What are you playing?” Wylis inquired as he stepped over to them. He towered over all of them, but none of them cowered. They were well acquainted with his gentle nature towards horses and people alike. “Shall I join for awhile until your mother arrives?”

“We were just going to play Hopfrog next,” Edwyna said and then giggled, “But I don’t think any of us will be able to hop over you…”

“I don’t want to play Hopfrog anyways,” Brandon said with a wrinkle of his nose, “It’s for babies.”

“It is not…” Ned scowled at him, it was his favorite game after all. Edwyna hurried to think of another game they could play that they would both like, before Ned and Brandon broke the happy atmosphere with their arguing.

“Then…we could play King in the Castle?” She suggested quickly, despite it not being a game she preferred. “Brandon can be King first.”

Brandon looked happy at that and Ned, although he looked a bit put out at not being picked first, didn’t put up a fight. Wylis just looked confused.

“What’s King in the Castle?” He asked softly. Edwyna realized suddenly that he’d never heard of it, this time thankfully not because it was one of her ‘special’ games, but just because it must not be a game most lower born children played.

“King in the Castle is when the king, Brandon, stands on something and you all have to rush to push him off. But he’s blindfolded, see, so someone has to be the Maester, and they become his eyes and protect him from those who want to push him off.” She hurried to explain, “Whoever does though, wins, and is the new King in the Castle. Then the Maester has to serve the new king.”

“Sounds like a lot of…pushing.” He said cautiously, which caused Ned to grin and look at Brandon with anticipation. “Maybe not the best game for a little lady?”

“She’ll be fine!” Brandon said already gathering the bucket and flipping it over. “She never does any pushing, she always plays the Maester. She’s the best at it!”

“The Maester?” Wylis finally spoke up, looking bemusedly at Edwyna. She liked how he looked directly into her eyes like Kenna never did. “I’ve never heard of a girl Maester.”

“Well, now you have. Like Brandon said, I’m _always_ picked to be the Maester in King in the Castle.” She said with a little huff as she avoided his gaze. She didn't dare tell him that underneath the excuse of the game she truly did want to be a Maester. He'd just call her silly anyways.

“Sounds like you’re a good one then.” Wylis said with a smile, “Since you’re always picked. Should we start?”

Edwyna looked up and smiled a little at that. She gave a proud nod as she tore off her scarf and rushed over to an impatient Brandon.

“Finally!” Brandon grinned as he let Edwyna tie her scarf around his eyes, climbing onto his bucket when she was done. “This blindfold means nothing! None shall take my place as King in the Castle!”

Edwyna giggled and stepped back, avoiding a large frozen over puddle as she did. She didn’t want to test how truly frozen it was after the past few days of warm weather.

She gave the call to begin, and in the next moment there was what can only be called controlled chaos.

Ned was all jump and no push, while Wylis really didn’t have to reach at all to push and pull at Brandon. He probably didn’t need to do more than bump into Brandon to push him off the bucket, but thankfully he kept his strength to himself and let the fun continue on for sometime. She had the feeling he was there more as moderator than an actual participant. As for Edwyna, she remained a stalwart supporter, calling out where his attackers were and leaning against his opposite side to balance him when he wobbled.

“Was that Ned?” Brandon called teasingly, “Or just a weak gust of wind?”

Edwyna rolled her eyes as she steadied him from a left side push from Ned, particularly hard after his taunt. Despite her role in the game she almost wished someone _would_ push him off, just to knock his ego down a bit.

“Now that _had_ to be Ned. Edwyna’s on _my_ side after all, and only girls push like that!”

“Brandon!” Edwyna called, unsure if she meant to warn him of Neds’ headlong rush, or to admonish him for his backhanded insult to her.

Either way, no matter what she did it was too late to stop the two boys from tumbling over the barrel into the dirt. The mass of tangled limbs and grabbing hands rolled too and fro, blindfold pulled hastily off and thrown into the dirt, and from the sidelines Wylis rushed forth to pull them from one another as Kendra gasped.

Ned wasn’t usually one to start fights but…it seemed Brandons’ heckling and awful attitude lately had finally pushed him over the edge. The tense atmosphere from the past week probably hadn’t helped any either.

“Alright, that’s enough—” Wylis started as he held tight to Brandons dirty shirt, but Ned leapt up from the ground to push him once again, startling him enough to loosen his grip.

Within a moment Brandon had been shoved from Wylis’ grip and stumbled back, foot sliding on melting ice. He reached out, catching just barely on Ned’s shirt to steady himself, but his backwards momentum was too much. They both went tumbling backwards, crashing hard where they fell: onto the frozen puddle that Edwyna had avoided so carefully earlier.

Unfortunately, it seemed Edwyna was right to avoid it, as the puddle wasn’t _quite_ frozen enough to hold both their weights.

Edwyna looked down in horror at her now soaked brothers where they sat in the large icy puddle. Kendra looked even more horrified from where she’d risen from her chair a ways away. Wylis just looked shocked.

As for her brothers, well…they looked at each other and _laughed_.

Everyone may says she was strange but...Edwyna thought it was really _boys_  who were the strange ones.

 

—

 

For the first time, Edwyna found the quiet unsettling as she peaked at Wylis from behind her recovered scarf. They were alone in the relative warmth of the stables, although the door was open and letting in the evening breeze. 

Kendra had immediately rushed to pull Brandon and Ned from their icy bath and fussed over them until they apologized on their own for making her worry. It was certainly a different tactic than Kenna used to admonish them. At first she'd insisted they all return to the nursery, but Edwyna reminded her that her mother was supposed to be arriving soon to take them to the godswood to pray. She’d be worried if she arrived at the stables to see them empty, so it would be better for someone to stay behind and wait for her.

_“Oh, well, I suppose you’re right…It wouldn’t do to worry Lady Stark.” Kendra had said nervously, unable to stop pacing and fussing over her sopping wet brothers. “And mother should have gotten Lyanna down by now…Wylis will just have to wait with you until Lady Stark arrives, or until I get these two changed into warm clothes and bring them back. Now off with you two, quickly, before you catch your death.”_

And so here they were, left alone in the stables as the evening sun set further and further below Winterfells walls. Edwyna felt a strange tension in the air, and she began to squirm in her seat by the door. The silence was unbearable after the day had previously been so full of laughter and sound. It felt a bit like a forbidding shadow had fallen and snuffed the sound out like a candle, even the dull banging from the smithy down the way was distant and muffled.

She needed to say _something_. What would Brandon say? He was always so good at talking to people.

“So…” She started, “Old Nan is your great grandmother?”

“Aye.” Wylis answered simply from where he was putting feed in the horses stalls, although he looked surprised at the sudden question.

“Do you…know any of her stories?” She asked hesitantly, curiosity winning out against her cautiousness. This certainly would be what Brandon would ask about...had been his goal for the entire week actually, but she knew she needed to be much more careful than he would be about what she asked. Namely, not about Bloodraven.

“I don’t believe I should be telling you such things,” Wylis said without looking up from his feeding of the horses. He seemed slightly uncomfortable, but it was hard to read his placid face.

“That’s a yes then.” Edwyna said with a smile, which caused Wylis to give her an unimpressed look. “No one is around…just one? Please?”

She held her breath until he gave a great sigh, and she knew she had him. She ignored the smidgen of guilt she felt at pushing him to do something he obviously felt uncomfortable doing.

“One story, m’lady.” He confirmed with a gentle smile, sitting down beside her.

Edwyna turned towards him eagerly, barely stopping herself from asking the first thing that came to her mind. She only had one shot at this.

“Have you any stories of people who…have strange dreams? Dreams that seem real? So real that they follow you when you wake?”

“Dreams?” He murmured, brows furrowing. “Aye, I think I have one. Nan used to say the children of the forest had wise men, leaders…they were said to have great control over nature and beast alike. When they shut their eyes they saw through the eyes of the Weirwood trees, dreaming of places far beyond their reach, where time had no meaning. They were called greenseers.”

There was a moment of silence as Edwyna took his words in. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him say so many words in one sitting before.

“Greenseers…” Riveted, Edwyna moved closer. She remembered vaguely a story Old Nan had told once that sounded similar, but she’d forgotten much of it. The word sounded familiar…although she was uncertain if she’d heard it from the old woman or read it in some dusty tomb about the kings of winter. “What did they see when they dreamed?”

“Whatever they wanted, I suppose. The past, the present, the future.” Wylis scratched at the scruffy uneven stubble on his chin, “Nan always said they could ‘see into the truth of this world.’”

“Just this world?” She asked quietly, so quietly she was sure he didn’t here her.

“What happened to them?”

“Well…some say green seers still exist within the descendants of the First Men, although rare. I think I heard tale once that the Crannogmen were known to see strange things in dreams…that it was because they had the blood of the Children within their veins.”

“Is that what the Weirwood circles are for? The greenseers?” Edwyna leaned forward and her next words were hushed, “Do they still use them?”

“Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don’t. If they still exist, the greenseers are the only ones who truly have an answer. As you know they are mainly used for worship of the gods now…” Wylis hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and speaking quietly. “But Nan always did say the circles weren’t for the greenseers, not like the carved faces were. That the circles were something else.”

“Something else?” She whispered back, and he nodded, looking out the open stable door suspiciously for a moment to ensure no one was listening. The stable suddenly seemed unnaturally quiet, and even whispers were too loud. None the less his words continued to be hushed, and Edwyna felt guilty once again for pushing him to tell her stories. Like he was telling her something that would get him in trouble.

“She said the Children used them to gain knowledge. That they were a gateway, to the ‘Otherworld.’” Wylis held her eyes, and she eagerly let him, captivated by his story. “Nan says it is where the Children went when they tired of their homes being invaded. Of their gods being cut down. It is there that the Others were born, and it is from the Weirwood circles that they escaped into this world.”

Within her chest, Edwynas’ heart raced. She had never heard of the ‘Otherworld’ before, not from mother and certainly not from Kenna. Even Old Nan, for all the tales of the Others and the Children of the Forest, she’d never mentioned an ‘Otherworld’ when speaking of their origins. Edwyna couldn’t wait to tell Brandon.

“I thought the Others came from the Lands of Always Winter?” She asked, voicing her thoughts.

“Aye, the Otherworld  _is_ a place of always winter. Nan was always very vague when describing it really…she said once it was ‘the place where the soul rests.’” With those words he leaned away from her. She despaired to see him begin to draw back from her, for she knew it meant the time for stories was nearing an end.

“Tell me more.” She pushed breathlessly, hoping to get just a little for from him. “What’s it like there? Can humans go to the Otherworld? Are the Others still there? Can they escape again?”

“Man cannot go there without dying or going mad.” Wylis said quietly, frowning at her many questions. “As for the Others…who knows. Perhaps they are there, trapped. Perhaps they were all killed. Perhaps they never existed at all. They are just stories after all.”

Edwyna frowned and leaned back into her chair as Wylis rose from his seat, effectively ending the conversation. She regretted the silence that swallowed the stables as he returned to his duties, but she consoled herself by thinking on the information he’d told her.

_Am I a ‘greenseer?’_

The label didn’t sit right with her, didn’t quite fit. Her dreams weren't of Weirwood trees, or beasts or even castles. They were of glass and steel towers and carriages without horses, strange things that she’d never seen in her life…although they _did_ always seem as if she was seeing through the eyes of another, just as Wylis said the greenseers saw through eyes carved into the trees.

And what of the Otherworld? It didn’t seem like it was always winter in her dreams but…What did it all mean? Were her dreams truly just dreams? Was she mad for trying to find some purpose for them, some kind of meaning…perhaps even a way to stop them?

Just as her head felt ready to burst with questions, the knock of metal on wood sounded from the entrance of the stables. She looked up from the ground to realize Wylis must have gone into a stall a ways down, for he was nowhere in sight.

“Lady Edwyna.” A low voice said from the open door, a large imposing man silhouetted by the evening set of the sun. The figure gave a half bow in greeting, and it was then that Edwyna noticed the large horse he held beside him. “I’ve been sent to retrieve you. Your lady mother waits in the godswood with your brothers.”

As he stepped further into the stables Edwyna recognized him as one of her mothers personal guards, often one of the two she took to the godswood for evening prayers. She smiled at him, though with a bit of confusion. The stables were just on the way to the entrance of the godswood after all, why wouldn’t mother stop and retrieve her herself?

“I have been guarding Lady Stark in the godswood for several hours already,” The guard continued reading the look on her face. He gestured to the heavily breathing horse beside him, “It is my understanding she took the time to ride there after a…particularly taxing conversation with Lord Stark and the Maester.”

“Ah.” Edwyna said in understanding, although a little frown formed in worry for her mother. Surely riding wouldn’t be good for her if she was still as sick as she was this morning?

Suddenly the day felt impossibly long, like she’d been waiting a century to see her mother. She wanted to get to the heart tree as soon as possible, and she quickly jumped from her chair to stand beside the dark haired guard, who easily took her offered hand in his large leathered one.

“Excuse me sir, but who you are?” Wylis stepped out from whatever stall he’d disappeared into earlier, shoulders squared and eyes suspicious. The guard looked startled to see him, although mostly amused at his posturing.

“A guard to Lady Stark, boy.” Standing tall with his chin up, Wylis looked twice his age now more than ever, but it didn’t seem to fool the guard. “Now, are you not the groom here? Come and take the Ladys’ horse, she needs hot walking before she’s put down for the night.”

“Yes sir,” Wylis said hesitantly, his shoulders still tense. “But I was tasked to look after Lady Edwyna until her mother arrived…”

“And so you have, as I come directly from the godswood as her lady mothers messenger.” He said firmly, “Put your mind at easy boy, she’s in good hands. You just tend to the horse, as is your place, and leave the guarding to the _guards._ Understood?”

The guard didn’t even wait for the humbled whisper of ‘aye’ from Wylis, just turned and left the stables with Edwyna trailing behind him. When she turned to look back, Wylis stood with the horses reigns held loosely in his hands, staring after her in that direct way he had. He didn't look away for as long as she continued to look back, and she felt strangely alone once she turned around to keep pace with the guard.

For the first time she noticed how far the sun had fallen beyond winter fells walls. The ground grew with shadows that twisted into strange shapes and the air was bitterly cold with the loss of the sun. Her nose grew red and the hand not held by the guard felt like ice when she tucked it into the warmth of her cloak, and she noticed distantly that a light snow had begun to fall.

Despite this, she was eager to reach the godswood, as it would be the first time her mother had allowed them all to join her in her evening prayers. After all, she wasn’t a baby like Lyanna anymore, and she could handle being out after dark.

However, as she struggled to keep up with the larger strides of her guard, she noticed something. Rather than heading from the stables towards the armory and guards hall, where the entrance to the godswood was, he lead her only past the library tower before turning sharply into the open area of the kennels. She could see the hunters gate far ahead of her now, the western exit from Winterfell that lead over the moat and out into the wolfswood.

“Where are we going?” She said slipping her hand from his. He turned towards her, a strangely impatient look on his face. “This isn’t the way into the godswood…”

“I’ve worked here for longer than you have lived my lady,” He said with an easy smile, “Trust me when I say we guards know all the quickest ways to get someplace.”

Uncertain but trusting his judgment, Edwyna let him retake her hand in his and pull her towards the hunters gate. His once warm hand felt clammy to her now, and a strange apprehension grew in her gut the closer they grew to the gate.

She’d never been outside of Winterfell, and so she’d never had reason to go here. Perhaps there truly was a way into the godswood here and she’d just never had reason to use it—

Edwyna stopped cold as they entered the gate, staring straight at a large drawstring pouch that was tied to her guards belt. The guards behind her had closed the heavy doors and now they stood in the warm darkness of the westernmost gate, only lit by a few sputtering lamps. Even that little bit of light was enough to clearly see what decorated the pouch, however.

_White and yellow flowers. Hollyhock and chamomile. Maester Walys._

“Where did you get that?” She said quickly, pointing with her free hand to the pouch that hung on her guards belt. And though she noticed the sound of jingling coins with each step, her voice was still hopeful when she voiced her next thoughts, “Is it more medicine for my mother, from Maester Walys?”

“Ah, this?” He said, patting the pouch in surprise as he pulled her across the gatehouse towards the furthermost doors. She walked as slowly as she could. “Indeed, just right. I got it from the Maester on my way to retrieve you.”

 _I thought he came directly from the godswood?_ She thought with a quiet panic. _Perhaps he went to the Maesters tower first and then the stables? No, we would have seen him pass if that was the case…_

The guards at the other side of the gate gave a nod towards them as they approached, and moved to open the outermost doors of the gatehouse. She looked to their belts and felt a cold sweat break out upon seeing the matching embroidered pouches there. She knew then that it wasn't medicine in those pouches...but gold. This wasn’t right, why were they leaving Winterfell? This _couldn't_ be right.

_“Not where others can hear you and…especially not where Maester Walys will hear you…”_

_“…I need you to understand how important this is.”_

_“Ambition…patience…”_

A sick fear rose in her stomach, and when she looked to the right and saw a door less than two meters away, she made a sudden decision. She yanked as hard as she could, and freed her hand from the guard, no, _her captor,_ and didn’t look back _._

Despite her much shorter legs, the suddenness of her actions gave her just enough time to reach the door and slam it closed behind her. It was the work of seconds, but it felt like eternity, and she thanked the gods that the door hadn’t been locked.

She noticed immediately that the door locked from the inside, likely to keep intruders out of the watchtowers, and she made quick use of it. She could hear the shouts of her three would be captors as they rammed into the door, yelling out curses and platitudes alike.

“What are you doing, my lady? Sneaking away from your own guard, what would Lady Stark think if she heard of this?”

“Open this door this instant you little bitch, or I’ll knock the thing down right into your teeth!”

If she wasn’t sure before that running was the right choice, she was now.

She didn't stay long enough to see if he’d follow through with his threat. Immediately she turned and ran up the spiraling stone stairs behind her. She knew from experience that the watch turrets, such as the one she’d found herself in, led up to the top of the crenelated inner walls of Winterfell. Surely there would be guards there that would help her.

“Help! Please, I need help! Guards!” She cried as loud as her tiny girlish voice could, but when she came out of the turret and onto the open air of the wall she found nothing. No one. Only the slowly falling snow met her eyes.

_Where were all the guards?_

Struck still by fear, Edwyna looked around wildly for any sign of life beyond her own, but the light had faded quickly and twilight made everything dark and strange to her eyes. In front of her the wall continued on around the edge of Winterfell, and to her right an offshoot of the wall buffeted the south edge of the godswood. Everything looked different from above, but she was fairly sure that it lead past the kennels to the guest and guard halls.

A booming crash sounded from the open entry of the turret behind her, and Edwyna knew the three men had broken down the door. She was running out of time.

She started running, blindly heading towards the guards hall, which she hoped had a turret entrance. If anywhere, that would be where she’d find someone. If she could make it there before her captors made it to her, that is.

As if her thoughts had summoned them, she heard a hoarse call from behind her and the sound of heavy footsteps. She valiantly tried to hurry her own steps and not look back, but her breath was leaving her and she knew she was quickly growing weary of running. She wasn’t used to so much activity, she was much more prone to reading, or watching while Brandon ran around enough for both of them.

“Stop! Lady Edwyna, you know I mean you no harm!” It was the first guards voice, and it was startlingly close. Edwyna stumbled in surprise and jerked her head around to look back, something she immediately wished that she hadn’t done. He was nearly upon her already, a rope held in his left hand and a look upon his face that was certainly not that of someone who ‘meant her no harm.’

As she wheezed she realized that there was no way she was going to make it to the guards hall before he caught her, not at a straight run along the wall walk. There had to be somewhere she could hide or—

From the right the dogs in their kennels howled, but from the left the only sound was the branches of the godswoods' trees shivering in the wind. The trees were large enough that the tallest reached even over the parapets, and that was where she found her answer.

“What are you—!” The guard reached for her, but she was already scrabbling over the walls parapets and into the thick branches of an ash tree.

She more fell than climbed down the tree, the rough bark scrapping her knees and cutting the soft skin of her hands. When she reached the bottom it was with a sob, her hair loose and tangled, her face scratched. Panting, she broke into another wild run, ignoring her aches and pains in the fear that the guard was climbing down just behind her.

When she finally stopped it was only because she tumbled over a large root onto the icy ground, dusted now with snow. From the ground she looked up and found no sign of the guard following her, only the dark dense forest around her. She lay there panting for some time, catching her breath with great shivering gasps. She felt as if her whole body was covered in bruises.

She didn’t know what to do. The sun had set, and she was surely lost now in the godswood from her harried, blind running. If she cried out it might alert someone…but would it be the right someone?

As she stood with a whimper she knew there would be no more running, not because she thought she’d escaped the men after her, but because her ankle burst with pain upon putting weight on it. Her steps were limping, but she continued on. She couldn’t trust the guards to give up on her, they’d probably just find some other way down into the godswood to follow her.

With the sun set now she had no way of knowing how long she walked, but it was a good while before she found herself in a moonlit clearing she recognized. With a relief so palpable that she fell to her knees before the frozen pond, the child laughed at the irony.

“The heart tree…looks like I reached you after all.” She said with a sniffle as she looked up at the familiar Weirwood before her. In front of it, the black waters of the pond were iced over and dusted with snow. “Now if only mother was here…”

“Yes…It’s unfortunate your mother couldn’t make it.” A voice said from behind her, startling her into jumping up and turning around. She took a step back as a figure emerged from the trees she’d just came from, but immediately crumpled back to her knees at the splintering pain that shot from her ankle. She’d pushed it too far, and now even the slightest weight sent tears to her eyes. And even if she could've run...there was no where to go. The frozen pond stretched wide behind her...she was trapped.

“You…Why—” Edwyna’s voice wobbled as she spoke, “Why are you doing this?! I know you, you’re loyal to house Stark. You’re mothers’ guard so why…?”

“Know me? I doubt you’d remember my name even if I’d told it to you. You nobles are all alike: vain and naive in equal measures. ‘Why’ you ask…”The man laughed and then patted the pouch on his belt. The coins there jingled and the embroidered silk flowers shimmered in the moonlight, flowers that Edwyna was quickly growing to hate.

“This is why. Gold.” He drew closer, confident that he had her trapped with the frozen pond behind her. “Someone wants you gone, and so you will be gone. Winter is here, and gold puts more food on the table than being loyal ever has. But I wasn’t lying when I said I meant you no harm, I wasn’t sent here to kill you. Just to take you far, far away.”

With a sardonic smile he chuckles, “But you’ve made that impossible now. You’ve put the whole castle on high alert with your loud mouth, and we’ve lost our window to escape. I have no choice now but to make it look like an accident…”

“Please sir…please, don’t…” Edwyna felt hot tears scald her cheeks as he crouched down in front of her, putting them eye to eye. He traced one large finger down her temple and she squeezed her eyes shut just in time for him to tap her eye lid. She kept them closed when his hand retreated, shaking in fear.

“All this because you have the wrong color eyes…what strange people you nobles are.” 

With those last words his large hands clasped roughly about her waist, and then Edwyna was airborne. Her small form was tossed easily through the air behind her, towards the center of the frozen pond.

She had only a moment to think of playing King in the Castle, of Brandon and Ned falling into the frozen puddle while they laughed. The ice hadn’t taken their weight then, and it wouldn’t take hers now.

With a great crack her body hit the pond, shattering the thin ice easily. The water was like a thousand needles piercing her, and though she struggled and flailed, she had never learned to swim. Whether it would have helped she didn't know, as her limbs quickly felt so heavy they couldn't move, and then she was still as the ice above her. Even her bones felt frozen.

She was freezing. She was burning. She was going to die here.

She tried to keep her siblings smiling faces in her mind as she sank into the freezing water. She tried to ignore the man standing at the edge of the pond, watching as she drowned.

In the end, all she saw was the weeping red face of the Weirwood staring back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. Just thought I would say: the 'Otherworld' is not canon, it's just me expanding on GRRM's world where he leaves things open to interpretation, which I will be doing a lot actually. I will always try to keep any worldbuilding in line with the feel of the original source material. Also: the otherworld is a 'real' place in celtic mythology, but that doesn't mean that my 'otherworld' will be exactly like the one in celtic stories. 
> 
> Any expansion on Northern culture will likely have some kind of celtic origins, as IMHO a large amount of Northern culture and geography is based on Scotland/Ireland.
> 
> I know cases can be made for and against, but this is where I stand and where I will be taking my inspiration from :) Can't wait to see what everyone thinks of the chapter, sorry for the long author note!


	6. A Place to Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look…look where I cannot see…
> 
> She didn’t want to look, she was afraid. She wanted to wake up, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. A weeping red face held her gaze, but only blackness filled her vision. She was confused and drifting, the heavy water laden clothes dragged her down into the deep.
> 
> She was tired. She didn’t want to wake, she didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t want to die.
> 
> Look…look…
> 
> Finally she opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! RL stuff got in the way blah blah blah I won't bore you with details.
> 
> Anyways, I am SUPER nervous for this chapter...I think some people will like it and others probably will not. It should answer some questions...
> 
> I hope it's not too confusing, I tried to make it as clear as possible, but I also like to leave a lot to the imagination and keep answers vague. Rarely in life do we ever get clear cut answers.

268 AC

 

“What do you mean Edwyna is missing?” 

Lady Starks voice was sharp as ice from where she stood holding the reigns of her horse. Her breath was only just slightly labored, cheeks flushed with the exertion of riding, and her eyes were staring daggers at the guard before her. Behind her glowered Willam, her most trusted guard who she had known for most of her, and an ever present presence at her side. He looked just as angry as she did with the guard bowing before her.

“My lady…It is my understanding that she ran off while your servant Kenna and her daughter were attending to the other children in the great hall.” The guard said with his head bowed before her angry gaze, “As you requested I sent word that your plans had changed, and you would have them bring the children back to the nursery. Despite this, it seems lady Edwyna was left alone with the stable boy, Wylis I believe, and it was only when your servants returned that they heard from the boy that she’d run off while he was working.”

“Run off?” She said in confusion, hands twisting the reigns nervously. “Without Brandon? No, no Edwyna would never…”

“I’m sorry m’lady. She should never have been left alone as such. The servants will have to be spoken to…” With a quick glance up at Lady Starks horse and her Willam glowering behind her, the guard straightened from his bow.

“Already I have alerted the guardsmen on duty to search the eastern half of Winterfell. The boy said she spoke of wanting to play in the broken tower before she disappeared.”

“The broken tower—what on earth was she thinking! She knows that dangerous place is off limits!” Lady Lyarra pressed her face into her shaking hands, mind swirling with the conversation she’d just had with her daughter that morning. Of all the times to sneak off, her daughter had picked the worst of them. Had she not listened to a word she’d said?

“And you say the last place she was seen was the stables?”

“Aye my lady, although I heard as such from the servant Kenna and her daughter, who came immediately to the guards tower to alert us of her disappearance. After which, I believe, they returned to the great hall to look for her there.” He said stiffly, “I believe it would be best if I went there myself to look for any further clues, but I thought it best to stop and make you aware of the situation first.”

“Yes, and right you were to do so.” She said shakily as she moved forward to put the horses lead in his hands, “Take my horse and go at once. Return swiftly to the great hall with any information, the hour is drawing late…and even within Winterfells walls, a child of six should not be roaming around unchaperoned in the dark.”

“Of course my lady, have no fear.” The guard bowed and then looked her straight in the eyes and smiled. It was not a particularly pleasant smile. “I shall have her before the sun sets.”

Lyarra watched as the guard turned and strode quickly from the godswood, leading her horse behind him. She turned then to Willam and gestured for him to follow her.

“We must find Kenna and the children,” She said quietly as she lengthened her stride, practically running towards the great hall. “I want to know how this happened…how they could be so careless!”

 

—

 

For quite some time after the guard left with lady Edwyna, Wylis paced. 

The horse was obviously the Lady Starks dappled grey mare, and the guard _had_ been decked in Stark colors and uniform but…for some reason Wylis could not press the sense of _danger_ from his mind when he thought of him.

Finally Wylis stood, and with just two, considerably long strides for a twelve year old, he exited the stable. He could no longer see their retreating figures, which was of no surprise as it had taken some time to hot walk the mare and put her in her stall for the night. However, undeterred by the lack of a trail, Wylis continued forward towards the godswood.

He was done with his duties for the evening, as the sun was just now nearly gone and twilight had set. His mother was sure to be in the woods dropping off lord Brandon and Eddard, and he didn’t want to waste time waiting for her to return to the stables to find him.

He was just going to the heart tree to save time and pick his mother up, and if it had the added benefit of easing his mind of lady Edwynas’ safety, then so be it.

 

—

 

“Ned, look! There’s a crow in the window.” Brandon said over his shoulder to his brother, who was just then struggling to push his head through the heavy woolen tunic Kendra was pushing him into. “I think he’s looking at me.”

“Now I just got little Lyanna pack down after you two barged in sopping wet and woke her, if I have to do it again you’ll be going to sleep with her. Keep your voice down.” Kenna said quietly from beside him as she glanced towards the window that held his attention, “Besides, that is no crow. It is a raven.”

“A raven…I heard they can learn to talk if you teach them.” Brandon said without looking away from the crows dark eyes. It cawed at him and pecked the window so hard that Kenna actually startled. “Maybe he has something to say.”

“There’s nothing a raven could say that you would need to hear.” Kenna said as she shuffled him away from the window. “Now with you two all dressed I say it’s high time that we were off to find your mother. She’s likely with your sister in the godswood by now.”

As Kenna exited the nursery she held open the door for Ned and her daughter, who followed behind her quickly, and she huffed when no sign of Brandon followed. She peered back into the nursery and gasped at what she saw.

“Brandon Stark do not even think of opening that window!” She cried as she hurried over to grab his tiny wrist in her bony hand, only inches from the cast iron knob of the window. “What on earth were you thinking? We’d never get the beast out if you let it in here!”

“It just felt like…he wanted to come in.” Brandon said hesitantly. When he looked back, the raven met his eye for the smallest of moments, and then flew away in the direction of the godswood.

“Well of course it wanted to come in, it’s winter!” Kenna huffed pulled him forcibly by the wrist towards the door. “By the gods, this day will be the end of me.”

“Indeed, perhaps it will be.”

Brandon pulled his eyes from the window then in surprise to see his mother standing before them, Ned pulled close to her skirts and Kendra nervously wringing her hands beyond the door. “At the very least it will by the last of your days in Winterfell, should I decide whatever paltry excuse you have for losing Edwyna is insufficient!”

“My lady!” Kenna said from where she held Brandon, her knobby hands clenching painfully tight on his arm. “What—I’m afraid I don’t understand—”

At this his mother looked furious, and even a bit betrayed. “I have known you since my first moments in Winterfell as Lady Stark. I have even considered us friends for much of that time—and yet I have never known you to be so brazenly obtuse! You know of what I speak! Edwyna is missing! How could you allow this to happen!”

When Brandon looked up in shock at Kenna, her face was white enough to rival the falling snow outside. She looked shocked enough to faint.

“Mis-missing?” Kenna stuttered and finally released Brandon to press her hand to her chest. A quick glance beyond Lady Stark told her that her daughter looked just as shocked as she. “But we only left her in the stables a moment, we were sure you would arrive before we’d even made it back to the hall!”

There was obvious confusion in his mothers eyes then, more so than anger.

“By the Others why would you leave Edwyna alone? Why would you not take her back to the great hall with the other children, as my guard asked you to!”

“My lady, please forgive me for saying so, but we heard no word from you on taking the children anywhere! We were sure you would be coming to the stables to take the children to the godswood!” Kenna cried, looking just as confused as Lady Stark. “Kendra left Edwyna with Wylis to stay and wait for you, so you would know where the others had gone.”

His mother seemed for a moment to be speechless, and she gave a quick glance behind her where Kendra stood also looking confused and faint. 

Brandon felt very small from where he stood watching them, and a fear hit the pit of his stomach that he’d never felt in all his life. Not even when he was almost caught running from Maester Walys’ room that one time.

“I sent a guard, to alert you of the change in plans.” His mother said slowly, a strange look on her face. “He said that he told you to bring the children back to the great hall. He was the one who came to me with news of Edwyna’s disappearance…news he spoke of hearing from _you._ ”

“We met no guard, my lady.” Kendra finally spoke up urgently from the doorway. “Please believe us, we would never have left lady Edwyna there if we were not sure you would be along at any moment!”

Kenna nodded at her daughters words and stepped forward to take Lady Starks nervous hands in her own.

“My lady, my daughter speaks the truth. There was no guard.” Kenna said as she met her ladys’ eyes with her own hard ones. “Neither of us spoke to any but the children on our walk here. I have never lied to you, my lady, and I swear on my life I never will.”

 

—

 

Lady Stark took in a shaky breath as she looked at the earnest face before her. Kenna, her favorite servant in Winterfell, the only one to have always been there for her. Every birth, every long lonely night, every cold harsh winter, Kenna had been there. 

Kenna had been there to braid her hair, to care for her children, to lie for her when asked, to take her secrets to the grave…the one to find her laying in the snow all those years ago before the heart tree, speaking of strange visions and red eyes. 

She would know if she were lying. She had to believe that she knew Kenna well enough to see the truth of her, or else much of her life here would suddenly become a lie.

“When I first entered you did not know that she was missing…” Lady Stark said with a frown, something suddenly occurring to her. The words of that nameless guard in the godswood who had so shook her with his news of Edwyna’s disappearance came to her as if through a fog.

 

 _“...As you requested I sent word that your plans had changed and you would have them bring the children back to the nursery.”_  

_“…I heard as such from the servant Kenna and her daughter, who came immediately to the guards tower to alert us of her disappearance.”_

 

“You spoke to no one you say…then you were not the ones to alert the men at the guards tower?”

When both servants shook their heads Lady Stark turned swiftly without another word and left the nursery, closing the door once she stood in the hall. Beside the door, with armor gleaming in the lamplight, was her guard, Willam. 

He stood at attention, his hand on the pommel of his sword and jaw tight. She had a feeling he’d come to the same conclusions she had as he'd listened to their conversation.

“Willam, what was the name of that guardsman?” She said with a wavering voice, “I had seen him on previous nights, but I never thought to ask his name. What do you know of him?”

“I knew him only as Dughal. The others speak only of his deft hand at cards.” Willam said with a glower, “He was new to the guard, by referral. I am unsure who referred him, however. He is said to come from farther north, nearer to Long Lake.”

_Referral? I suppose most of the guard are here by referral but…_

With pressed lips Lyarra met his eyes. Something was wrong. There were too many things from this ‘Dughal’s’ story that were just not adding up.

“I want you to find him, Willam. Immediately.” She said. “I have a feeling he knows more about where Edwyna is than he told us.”

“Yes, my lady.” He said inclining his head. “I will fetch the guards downstairs to watch over you while I am away.”

Lyarra clenched her hands as he turned to leave. She agreed it would be wise to station a man outside the nursery door, but the thought of the other guards brought something else to her mind.

“Willam, a moment.” She said swiftly, stopping him half way down the hall.

“The guard, Dughal, he said something about sending the others to the eastern most part of Winterfell. To the broken tower." She said quickly, "You should send someone to retrieve them, and tell them to watch the gates for suspicious activity.”

Willam nodded, but said nothing when he turned once more and disappeared down the hall. Lady Stark was not offended however, she knew it was just his way to be silent. She trusted him more than any other in the Winterfells' guard, as he had come with her from her childhood home when she was first to be wed. She wished at times for simpler days in her childhood home, where she had never felt alone.

She leaned back against the door to the nursery, her eyes pressed closed in worry as Willam drew further and further away. She could hear that Lyanna had awoken at all the commotion, and soon Kenna’s rough singing could just be heard through the closed door, as well as the hushed sound of her two boys arguing as they always did.

Winterfell had become her home now, the home of her children, and had been the home of her ancestors for generations. Now that home was being threatened by the very people she had thought would protect her.

She was sure that Willam would get to the bottom of this, and in the future, she would be more careful of just who in Winterfell she trusted with her families safety.

 

 

—

 

_Look…look where I cannot see…_

There was a voice echoing from nowhere. Everything was cold. The icy night sky grew farther and farther away.

Her eyes were shut but still she saw the weirwood tree in bold imprint on the backs of her lids. Everything was cold, and yet she felt nothing.

_Look…look where I cannot see…_

She didn’t want to look, she was afraid. She wanted to wake up, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. A weeping red face held her gaze, but only blackness filled her vision. She was confused and drifting, the heavy water laden clothes dragged her down into the deep.

She was tired. She didn’t want to wake, she didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t want to die.

_Look…look…_

Finally she opened her eyes.

 

—

 

Wylis was running, but he barely registered the fact. He had never been one known for his ability to focus on many things at once, and at the moment all he could focus on was getting to the godswood as quickly as possible.

He had just been passing the entrance to the kennels when he’d heard it. A cry, so distant it was as though from a little bird, had pierced the winter night. The voice was unmistakable and immediately Wylis had looked up towards the source of the sound, seemingly from the top of the wall he walked beside.

Although his view was obstructed by the parapets lining the top of the wall, they were soon made useless by the sight of a tiny figure climbing up upon them. A tiny black haired figure that looked startlingly alike in build and clothing to the Lady Edwyna, who had then promptly flung herself over the side of the wall into the arms of the godswood beyond.

There was a shout of a man who Wylis could only just see through the parapets, but the glimpse was enough to recognize the guard who had so easily convinced him to hand Lady Edwyna over.

He knew he wasn’t the brightest lad, but even he knew what the signs all around him were pointing to. He would have no choice but to claim status as a fool from now on, for having so easily given Edwyna away to a stranger, even one who she’d vaguely recognized.

 

The quiet way she’d pulled him into their games, despite him being of the smallfolk.

The easy way she’d explained a nobles game to him.

The tentative smile she’d given him when he’d complimented her.

The intense focus of her strange eyes on him as he told her stories he knew he shouldn’t be telling.

 

All of those things could be gone forever, because of him. 

And so he ran into the godswood, and for the first time thanked the gods for his long legs and large build. In his single minded focus he didn’t stop to think why there were no guards at the entrance to the godswood, or stationed about the guest hall. He only knew the burn in his legs, the cry echoing in his ears, the sight of her black hair whipping in the wind as she jumped.

He ran through the godswood, but knew not where to go to find her.

It was then that he felt his status more than ever, for as a groomsman he had never needed to be intelligent. If he’d been some lords child he'd have thought to follow the wall along the inner edge of the godswood to where he’d seen her jump. If he’d been some lords child he’d know how to find her tracks on the frozen ground. If he’d been some lords child he’d have found her already, rather than be turning in circles, lost.

But he wasn’t, he was just a stableboy who took care of the horses. A stand-in until they found a replacement for his father, a new stable master. And a stableboy couldn’t do much without a horse.

With panting breaths he prepared to yell, thinking perhaps if he called her name she would respond and he could follow the sound of her voice.

“Lady Edwyna!” He shouted in a voice unused to such volume, “Lady Edwyna, call back to me!”

There was no response beyond the barking of a raven, but Wylis continued to call for her with every five steps he took.

“My lady! Lady Edwyna!” Wylis turned as he called for her, eyes searching between each tree for her small form. “Lady—!”

With a flinch Wylis stepped back in surprise from the branch he’d nearly stepped into. The branch was not what shocked him so, however, but the sight of the large raven that sat upon it.

The bird crowed at him, and Wylis flinched again. He’d never been so close to a raven before, but he knew they were messenger birds and he immediately looked at its foot for a roll of parchment. There was nothing, not that it would have mattered if there had been. Wylis couldn’t read after all.

With a shake Wylis looked away from the strange bird and continued to call for the young lady for several minutes, walking off in random directions in the hopes of getting closer to her.

Through it all the loud raven followed him, crowing in tune with each call of the lady’s name, until Wylis had to stop and stare at in confusion.

The raven cocked his head, seemingly looking at him, before spreading its wings and flying towards a branch in the opposite direction than he’d been going. It cawed again as it stared at him.

Wylis knew he wasn’t particularly bright, but even he knew thinking a bird was talking to you was  mad. And Wylis wasn’t mad, simple maybe, but not mad.

Still…he followed the strange bird anyways.

 

—

 

When Edwyna opened her eyes she saw only white. For a moment she thought she was blind, and then a moment later she thought she’d woken to a world blanketed by snow...a moment further and she realized there was no snow, only thick all encompassing fog.

Moving was a struggle, almost as if the whole of her body had been wrapped in cloth and each turn of her head or lift of her arm pulled the cloth tighter. Strangely she felt quite calm, despite being in an unfamiliar place with impaired mobility.

“Hello?” She called hesitantly. Her voice did not echo, but stopped as if muffled by the shroud of fog around her. She would not be surprised if she could not hear someone calling from but a meter away.

“Is anyone there?” She tried again. With difficulty she took a few steps forward, and upon doing so she looked down. Beneath her feet was the strangest ice she’d ever seen, black like pond ice and so shiny she knew she should see some kind of reflection of herself...but there was no reflection, not of herself anyways.

“What—what is—what is this!”

With a cry she flinched backwards from the strange image in the ice, and the shroud around her pulled so tight she lost her balance, toppling backwards.

She hit the ice hard, but she hardly noticed as she placed her palms on the slick surface below her in awe. Before her eyes was a strange mirror image of Winterfell, seen as if from below, and she stared in confusion at the inverted world before her.

The booted feet of a servant passed by her elbow and she flinched, staring at the upended man who seemed to be walking upside down right below her. She suddenly felt an intense sense of vertigo overcome her and had to close her eyes to ground herself. She tried very hard to not think about the literal ground beneath her.

With deep breaths Edwyna pulled herself onto her hands and knees, her earlier calm receding and being replaced by a shivery and nauseous feeling. As she steadied herself and pushed up into a standing position, she kept her eyes as far from the ground as she could. She knew if she looked down she’d end up flat on her back again in moments.

She didn’t try to call out again, just wrapped her arms around herself and observed her surrounding best she could. It was only then when she really focused on the fog that she saw the black figures moving within it, large towering shapes like the shadows of people distorted by a great fire. There was no fire here though, only ice and fog and cold.

The fear that had been mysteriously absent since she’d woken appeared with a vengeance then, and her shivering became from more than just the seemingly inescapable cold.

She didn’t know what to do. She feared calling out for help lest the strange shadowy figures come closer, and she feared moving forward for the same reason.

All she could do was stand and wonder where she was and how she got there. She tried thinking back, but all her mind gave her was an image of the weeping eyes of the weirwood tree. She wasn’t sure what that meant.

 _Did the gods bring me here?_ She wondered, _Am I…am I dead?_

Before she could linger too long on that terrible thought, she was forced to confront the fact that something was growing nearer to her. With a gasp she stumbled back, but her limited range of motion kept her from doing much more than that before a great dark beast loomed before her, only an arms length away.

It was not like the other figures in the fog, in that it was not shaped as a person was, but rather some kind of animal. A large dog, or perhaps a wolf, Edwyna didn’t know. She’d never seen a wolf outside of the depictions on her family banners, although she doubted dogs got quite so big as this.

Either way the beast did not move from its place several feet away from her, and soon Edwyna felt her curiosity overcome her fear enough to move a bit closer. However, for each step she took she became aware that the best took one in the opposite direction.

“Wait,” She called out to the thing, moving slowly and with great effort.

She tried to reach out and touch the beast, but her fingers met nothing but fog. The beast truly was just a shadow.

“Where am I?” She tried to call towards the retreating back of the beast, “Where are you going?”

As she struggled after the figure, she tried to focus on her labored breathing. There seemed to be some kind of heavy pressure sitting on her chest that she couldn’t find the source of.

It made her wonder if the cold she felt was really from this strange place or from something else.

 

—

 

When at last Wylis found the young lady, it was not in the way he’d hoped.

He’d been running after the bird for what seemed like forever, calling the lady Edwynas’ name all the while, and its dark wings seemed ever just out of his reach. He could hardly keep up with its rapid flight from branch to branch, but he never truly lost sight of the raven: not until he stumbled into the clearing that held the heart tree and its dark pond, that is.

He didn’t have time to look for the odd raven then, for his eyes were frozen on the broken ice of the waters before him. There wasn’t a doubt in his heart that the raven had taken him here for a reason, however strange and fantastical that seemed, and he was sure that in the depths of the pond he would find the Lady Edwyna.

Again, he didn’t think, just ran straight into the ponds icy waters.

He knew how the swim, and he was tall and strong enough to force his tingling limbs to keep moving through the cold as he searched. When his numb searching fingers finally found her still form, she was a cold leaden weight in his arms that dragged him down as he pulled them both towards the shore. but his own clothes were sodden now and his limbs were losing their strength. He could only just keep his arm clamped around lady Edwynas' waist.

He was just a stableboy. He should never have run after her himself. He should have sought out more capable people.

_"…leave the guarding to the guards.”_

The poisonous words of the man who he had foolishly let Edwyna leave with drifted through his mind, and he scowled. Capable or not, stableboy or not, he was the one who was here now and he had to get them out of this water.

Suddenly a figure appeared at the edge of the clearing, clad in Stark colors and shining metal plate. For a heart wrenching moment Wylis thought it to be the guard who had caused all of this, the one who he had so foolishly let Edwyna leave with. But in the next moment his fears were soothed, when the guard shouted out to him in alarm and rushed over, swiftly picking up the largest stick he came across.

"Keep moving!" The man said harshly leaned as far out over the water as he could, stick held out for Wylis to grasp. "I'll pull you in!"

Gasping, Wylis struggled to both keep his and Edwyna's head above the water. When he finally grasped the stick with the arm not holding Edwyna, it was with a shaking weak hand. It was enough though, and quickly the guard pulled them both towards the shore through the path of broken ice Wylis had made upon entering. As soon as he was close enough the guard grasped Edwyna from him and lifted her from the water. It was a bit more work to get him out of the water, with his larger size and heavier clothing, but he was thankful the guard bothered at all, really. 

As Wylis lay shivering and shaking on the frozen ground next, he turned to watch weakly as the guard held a single finger beneath the girls nose. The snow falling from the night sky melted on her wet skin, so pale and blue in what little light the moon could give through the clouds. She wasn’t breathing, he noticed with horror as he shivered on the frozen ground beside her.

“My lady,” Wylis said as pushed himself up on stiff arms. He reached over and shook her shoulder, heart beating near out of his chest, “Please, lady Edwyna, please wake…”

With no response to his shaking but her lolling head, Wylis gave a little sob.

"Move-" The guard said as he pushed him out of the way, not unkindly but brusque. Wylis watched as with a heave the guard lifted her body and flung it over his shoulder. With one large hand he slapped her back and bounced her up and down, and Wylis found himself reminded of similar motions he’d seen mothers give to hiccuping babes.

He looked up at the looming Weirwood at whose base they lay, praying with pleading eyes to the heart tree for her to breath just once.

Her coughing sputtering breaths were the best thing he’d ever heard in his entire life.

 

—

 

As her strength waned, she stumbled to her knees, only realizing once she'd caught her breath that the beast had stopped as well. There in front of her stood the shadow, and she couldn't help reaching out curiously to trace her fingers through the incorporeal form of the beast. However, as soon as her fingers touched the shadows the beast melted away, and beneath her hand Edwyna felt something wonderfully _real_. 

For a moment she didn’t realize what it was, as it blended in so well with the whiteness of the fog around her. But then the fog lifted some, and when she looked up she realized what she touched was a massive, white tree.

She expected its branches to hold the brilliant red leaves she was so used to, but in this cold icy place it should have been no surprise that this trees branches were barren. Its gnarly fingers twisted like bones into the grey whiteness above her.

Still, Edwyna could not shake the feeling that this was a weirwood tree. She knew the texture of its bark like her own skin, and she knew no other tree whose flesh was so white. So she crawled on her knees around the base, which startlingly had no roots to climb over, and used her hands to feel for the shape of a carved face.

When she rounded the other side of the tree there was no face, but there _were_ more trees.

It seemed as if this little corner of this strange place dispelled the fog like water off a ducks back, and Edwyna soaked up her new range of vision reluctantly. Reluctantly not because she disliked the trees…but because of just _how_ the trees were planted.

 

They were planted in a circle. She was in the middle of a Weirwood circle.

 

Although she hadn’t had much luck remembering things in this place, that was one thing she seemed not to have forgotten. Wylis’ words stuck in her head, tales of doorways and places of eternal winter…and the Others.

Suddenly the shadows around her seemed extra foreboding.

Something like a shiver across the back of her neck gave her an inexplicable compulsion to look down. Thankfully when she did she didn’t quite get the sense of stomach flipping vertigo that she had before. Reflected below the tree whose trunk her hand still rested upon was a true Weirwood, one whose branches brimmed with blood red leaves. She briefly admired how the weeping face on its trunk looked almost happy from this angle.

She didn’t understand anything about this strange place, but she recognized the Weirwood whose face reflected below her. It was the one she’d seen all her life, upon the heart tree in Winterfells’ godswood. She remembered the mirror image of Winterfell she’d been startled by when she’d first come to, and she wondered if everything had its own counterpart in this barren place.

When she looked at the surrounding trees however she realized that none of them had anything but broken roots reflected below them.

Perhaps at some long ago point in history there had been a Weirwood circle in the godswood…but if there had been it had been before even the first stones were laid in Winterfells foundations.

Carefully, she edged further into the center of the circle of trees, but when she reached the center horror rose in her throat.

Below her, in the ice, her own body floated. And suddenly she remembered how she’d gotten here.

_What is this place?_

 

**Ask and remember.**

 

Edwyna startled backwards at the strange voice. “Who’s there!”

 

**You.**

 

Looking around wildly, Edwyna tried to find the source of the speaker, but found she could not. It seemed to come from everywhere, or perhaps just from each of the faceless, sightless dead trees that circled her, like a dozen voices speaking all at once.

“I am right here, so you cannot be me.” She said with confusion, “Come out at once!”

As soon as the words left her mouth she wished to take them back. For not a moment after her demand, figures emerged from the foggy space between each bone white tree. Shadowy figures with no constant form, devoid of any distinguishing figures beyond a general human shape.

Edwyna tried to scuttle away but she realized the endeavor was pointless. They were all around her.

“Are you—are you the Others?”

 

**We are one.**

 

Shivering at the non answer, she slowly turned, trying to keep her eyes on all of them at once as they slowly grew closer. With a rush they converged, and as she felt one pass through her, she gave a sudden scream. Gasping, she wrapped her arms tight around her shivering form,and covered her head as she curled into a ball. Fearfully she watched from behind her arms as the shadows coalesced into one shifting unnatural thing in front of her. It felt as if it was staring at her, despite its lack of eyes. She felt stripped bare before it.

“I want to leave! I want to go home, please!” She said with a little sob, “Let me leave!”

 

**We do not hold you here.**

 

“Then how do I leave?” She said in a shaking voice, "Tell me how to go home!"

 

**Wake.**

 

_“How?”_ She cried.

 

**Wake.**

 

At a standstill, Edwyna presses her hands to her wet eyes. Everything about her was soaked, now that she took a moment to realize it, and her eyes drifted down to her floating form below the ice. 

“Where am I?” She asked sniffling and squeezing her eyes shut once more against the horror all around her. “What is this place?”

 

**It is our place, the place where we rest.**

 

A thought came to her then and choked her throat with fear. “Are you—Are you ghosts?”

 

**We are one, we** **are you.**

 

“ _I_ am me. You cannot be—we cannot be each other, we’re not—” With mounting confusion she finally looked up at the swaying figure hesitantly. 

She saw nothing in its countenance that looked like her.

 

**Many bodies we have had, bu** **t only one soul.**

 

“Then…you are my…soul?” She said hesitantly.

 

**We are one, we are a collective.**

 

She scowled a bit at the repetitive answer. Apparently souls couldn’t answer questions with yes or no. 

“A collective of what?” She said a bit bolder now, as annoyance cut through her tears.

 

**Memories.**

 

With a start she sat up straight from her curled position, tears and fears forgotten.

“Memories.” She repeated, “My dreams…are they from you?”

 

**Dreams are always memories,**

**No face in a dream is a face unseen.**

 

“Must you speak only in riddles?” She said suddenly, “Can’t you just…be a bit _clearer?”_

There was a long moment of silence, almost contemplative, and then the shadowy figure moved closer to her. She flinched back from it apprehensively but already long dark fingers were upon her face.

 

**We will show you.**

 

It said as it held her in place with cold incorporeal hands. Its next words rang ominously through the air.

 

**Knowledge gained for knowledge lost**

 

—

 

In her dreams Edwyna was always an outside observer, separate from the world she moved in. It had always been like looking at moving paintings, the subjects of which were always just that bit unreal and immovable. Many times in her dreams she saw things she knew no name for and so, just as with a painting whose context wasn’t given to her, she was forced to make her own.

Whatever this was that the shadow figure was showing her, it was not like her dreams.

 

—

 

_Her sweet daughter sat by her bed holding her paper thin hand. The beeping of a machine was the only sound in the hospital room. She knew her time was near and she wished for the strength to wake her daughter, to say just one more word to her before she passed. But she had none, she had only enough to blink and hold her daughters own wrinkled hand in her own as tight as she could._

_She had lived a long good life. She’d though she had regrets like any other, she knew that she had done the important things right._

_She’d raised a beautiful strong daughter. She’d had a long accomplished career in science, become one of so few female leaders in the field. She’d had the love of the kindest woman to ever live, and had lived to see a wedding ring on her finger._

_She’d lived a good life. She was looking forward to seeing what life there was after death._

 

—

 

_He wished he could have had the chance to go to university. He wished he’d had the money to pursue his dreams. He wished he hadn’t been so foolish as a young man. He wished his parents had pushed him to do more than get married and get some dead end job. He wished, he wished, he wished…so many wishes on so many stars, and for what?_

_Nothing. He was nothing, and he would always be nothing. Just some grease monkey who read too many books and tinkered with things he shouldn’t. You should just stick to what we tell you to do, they all said. Just put your head down and do your job and stop thinking you’re something special. You have kids to support, you can’t afford to lose your job, just fix the car and spend your money on drink._

_He was so tired. Tired of everything._

_He sighed his last breath into the window of his car, thinking it ironic that his last moments be here. He prayed there would be another chance on the other side. A chance for all his broken wishes._

 

_—_

 

_He wasn’t a soldier, but he’d had to become one. Now, staring at night sky above him as the life slowly drained from him, he wished that he’d ran away as his mother had begged him._

_She’d said he’d get himself killed. She’d said he was a scholar, not a killer._ _His mother had been right. She was always right._

_He should have listened to her, but he’d been too enamored with the stories. The idea of being a hero, or medals and honors the likes of those he’d studied in history books._

_He’d always studied war, the great battles, the new weapons...but the truth of those books was so very different from reality._

_At the very least, he knew soon he would see the truth of the greatest book of all. He hoped it would not be so different from the stories. He hoped there would be angels._

 

_—_

 

_They were one. The felt no cold, no pain, no love or sadness, they only were. They were a book with a thousand stories waiting to be read, and they were held together by a single thread._

_Reborn anew, they never remembered, but they were always the same. A scholar. A reader. An intellect._

_A tiny red eyed babe opened her eyes, and for just a moment she knew all of her past lives. In the next moment it was gone, and she wailed her grief for the loss of something she didn’t understand. In her dreams she saw what she had lost, but could not understand. A body was not meant to hold the memories of a dozen lifetimes. That way lays only madness._

_So many memories, so much knowledge. She would never be them…they were gone. But she could remember. She could know them._

_But a mind can only hold so much._

_Knowledge gained for knowledge lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to hear what everyone thinks! Hopefully you like where I'm going with it. This was a pretty big chapter for me, and I'm not used to writing so many different perspectives in one chapter so I hope it didn't get jumpled anywhere :)   
> Also-not sure about the formatting of the bold text...I may change it later maybe. I figured italics would make it confusing as thoughts are often italics, so I went for bold.What do you guys think, was it jarring to see bold text? should I just make it italics?


	7. 268 AC: A Powerful Whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to everyone who is still reading this! I hope you like this chapter, despite it being a bit slow and expositional. It was needed to explain things like motives and to build on Rickard and Walys' characters.  
> Also, I've decided to get rid of the chapter summaries, because I find them redundant. Sorry to anyone who really liked them :(

268 AC

 

Lady Stark paced her solar in agitation, hands wringing in her skirt. She waited furtively for a knock upon the door, eager to return to her daughters side but knowing that it was necessary to be in private for the message she was awaiting.

Well…not so much a message, as a servant _with_ messages. And not her messages…but Maester Walys’.

She felt a curdle of shame in her gut for being so underhanded, but she knew, she just _knew_ he’d had something to do with her daughters sojourn into the godswoods’ pond. What she didn’t know was how to prove it, and without proof it would be just another failed argument with her lord husband, and he would once again dismiss her fears as baseless slander.

She needed her servant to come back with something she could use, although she knew not what that would be.

“My lady,” A voice said from behind the closed door of her solar, “I have the—”

Immediately Lady Stark opened the door, cutting off what Kendra was about to say. With a smile she ushered the servant in and closed the door behind her.

“Kendra, it is good to see you.” Lyarra said with a forced smile, although thankfully she didn’t need to fake the sincerity behind the words.

“And you as well, Lady Stark.” Kendra smiled back nervously. She had a parcel in her hand, looking to be a hastily wrapped bundle of papers.

“Thank you for arriving so quickly,” Lady Stark said quietly as she carefully took the bundle from Kendra’s arms. “I appreciate your expediency…and your discretion.”

“It was no trouble, my lady, no one saw me leave or enter his quarters." Kendra said in acknowledgment, looking nervous but sincere.  "I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Lady Starks’ smile was real this time as she squeezed the servants arm. Kendra was just as sweet and considerate as her mother, although not many would think such words applied to the surly servant. Lyarra knew better however...Kenna just hid it well behind her stern looks.

With a nod she dismissed the obviously eager to leave Kendra, and turned to the table in the center of the solar to place the snatched letters there. Just as she heard the door open however, she turned and called out to her.

“Your boy, Wylis, I meant to ask after him.” Lady Stark said with a hint of shame. Her son had risked his life to save her daughters and she hadn't even thought to ask after his welfare. “He saved my daughters life. If he is showing any signs of the sickness Edwyna has, I would have him tended to.”

Kendra smiled from her place at the door. “You are kind to ask, my lady, but my Wylis is just fine. Not even a bit of a sniffle, thank the gods…although he’s found other ways to worry us sick.”

Lyarra made an inquisitive noise and Kendra continued with a sigh, but she knew it wasn’t too serious by the bemused smile on the edge of her lips.

“He has been insisting on joining the guard as of late. I’ve never seen him so set on anything before…he’s always been such a gentle, genial child.” Kendra averted her eyes then and the little smile playing at her lips fell. “I can’t imagine him killing another. But then I suppose most mothers have had such thoughts about their sons…”

“I see…” Lyarra said with understanding. She herself had thought many times on what her sons would no doubt be called upon to do at some point in their lives. Though the War of Ninepenny Kings was long past and the realm united, she had no illusions about the way of the world. War was always close at hand, only ever a death or a wrong word away from starting.

“Old Nan has taken it harder than mother or I, however.” Kendra said with good humor returning to her face. “I think Wylis fears her knitting needles as much as any blade now. She’s taken to stabbing him in the backside whenever he mentions joining the guard.”

Lady Stark gave a startled laugh and immediately felt both guilt and sadness at the thought of Old Nan. She realized then that she missed the old woman’s presence in the castle, and she hated to think how she must feel, cooped up in her Winter town home. She’d always been so good with the children.

“Kendra, I’m afraid I have one more request for you.” Lyarra sighed, “Old Nan…tell her I am sorry for sending her away. If I’d had another choice…in the future, should circumstances change, I hope to see her return to the castle.”

Kendra met Lady Starks eyes for the first time since entering and gave her a small smile. “I think your words will comfort her, my lady. She asks after the children quite often, especially Brandon.”

With a last nod Kendra turned and left Lady Starks solar, leaving Lyarra alone in the room with only the crackle of the fire to keep her company. That and the letters that now sat upon her solars table.

With anticipation Lyarra unwrapped the precious bundle, sat down, and began to read.

 

—

 

When his wife barged into his quarters through the private door that connected their rooms, Lord Stark was only just pulling on his trousers. It wasn’t the most dignified way to be found, but he supposed it was good he at least _had_ his trousers on.

“Lyarra—” Rickard started to greet as he hurried to pull on the rest of his clothes, but as usual his wife didn’t even let him finish her name before she was harping at him.

“We need to speak.” She said forcefully, her brows pinched as they always seemed to be when in the same room as him, “About Maester Walys. And about Edwyna.”

Rickard gave her a weary look from the corner of his eye as he pulled his boots on. “While I agree that we must speak about what happened with Edwyna, I don’t know that Maester Walys has much to do with it. Besides caring for her until she is well again, of course.”

 _If she is well again…_ An insidious voice whispered at the back of his head.

With a flourish his wife threw a stack of folded papers down beside him on the bed where he sat.

“I believe if you read those letters you will think differently.” She said with surety.

Rickard gingerly picked up the letter at the top of the pile, and sat up straight in shock when he realized what it was. “These are Maester Walys’ personal correspondence… _stealing,_ Lyarra? I truly do not understand what goes on in that mind of yours sometimes, but—but this—I never would have expected this of you.”

“It was necessary.” She said, and there was a hint of shame on Lyarra’s face for a moment, but she hid it behind a quick scowl. “I needed to show you that my suspicions were not baseless. I needed you to _understand._ Maester Walys has broken his vows, he is not protecting this family but plotting it’s downfall!”

With a press of his fingers to the bridge of his nose Lord Stark leapt from the bed and headed directly to the door that lead away from his room and, more importantly, away from his wife.

“Rickard!” Lyarra cried in disbelief as she hurried to stop him. Her small hands grabbed at his arm, stopping his attempt to flee from a familiar argument. “I know you think my dislike for him is based on some petty incident or jealousy but it is _not_.”

Rickard pressed his lips into a thin line as his wife shuffled around to stand before him, forcing him to look into her worried and determined face. She was incorrect in assuming he thought her disregard for the Maester to be the foolishness of a woman’s fancy.

He’d always known her dislike for him stemmed from the rumors over his first born children, and his refusal to believe that Walys had started them himself…

“Please,” Lyarra whispered as she pressed the worn paper of one of Maester Walys’ letters into his hand. “Please, just read them. You’ll understand then.”

He looked down at the letter in his hand solemnly, and resigned himself to his fate. The past day and a half had taken their toll, and he found he didn’t have it in himself to fight with his persistent and strong willed wife. With a nod Rickard turned and gathered the rest of the correspondence from the bed and sat to read it over. He ignored the sneaking guilt that spread through him, but it only increased the more he read through such personal documents.

Finally, when he finished he set the last one down and gave a deep sigh. His wife stopped her pacing and hand wringing to look at him with wide eyes.

“Do you see now? This is proof that the Maester has long been the source for the rumors about Edwyna and Brandon.” She said tightly, “And if he is the reason for those terrible whispers, is it really such a stretch that he could be the one who—”

“Stop.” Lord Stark said quietly, but with finality. Even the softest of his words sounded loud in the tense room. “I don’t think you want to finish that sentence Lyarra. Maester Walys is _not_ our enemy.”

“Did you not _read_ what I just gave you?” She said in disbelief, pointing to the piled correspondence, “Those letters go back _years._ They are _proof_ that Maester Walys started the whispers about Brandon and Edwyna's legitimacy—”

“These letters prove _nothing_ , Lyarra. You are seeing what you want to see…” Rickard said as he firmly gripped the last of the letters. He was feeling very old and tired today, despite his relative youth. “All that these papers _prove_ is that Maester Walys was speaking to an old Maester at the wall about his long dead relative. That is all.”

“ _That is all_ —” Lyarra scoffed, “He was asking about _Bloodraven_ , about what he looked like, about who he was close to, if he ever indulged in the pleasures of mole town. Do you not see the connection? He started those rumors, and now they have nearly gotten my daughter killed! And will perhaps do the same to my son, your heir, _our_ children.”

“We do not know why someone was sent after Edwyna.” Rickard said with a hint of confusion. “But I doubt that something as small as an unkind rumor would push someone to want her or Brandon _dead._ ”

“Perhaps if you thought beyond what the Maester tells you to think, then you would see it!”

With a glare Rickard stood and crossed his arms, patience quickly waning. He would ignore much in the wake of the past days events, but his wife was walking a thin line insulting him.

“Bloodraven was a legitimized Targaryen bastard,” She continued, ignoring his look. “Even a rumor of Targaryen blood these days could push people to do stupid things—no one wants another war. And Walys _purposefully_ propagated such rumors, don’t you see?”

“Maester Walys did not _propagate_ anything!” Rickard finally burst out, patience snapping. “The Maester was the first to bring me news of the rumors, before they’d even spread farther than Winter town. He sent those letters all those years ago, only in an attempt to root out the source. He thought someone from the wall had started it, a deserter who had known him before he disappeared perhaps.”

“You sound quite sure of his reason for sending that letter,” Lady Stark said cautiously, and something like guilt sliced into Rickard’s side.

He cringed but saw no way out of telling her the truth, not without lying. And lying had never been his strong suit when it came to his wife.

“Indeed I knew of the letters, although I hadn’t read them before now,” He said as he looked away from her accusing gaze. “The letters were his attempt to find the source without my support...he asked for resources to stop the whispers, gold and spies and such, but I…I denied him.”

“…You _what._ ” She said after a long pregnant pause.

Lord Stark turned his back to her accusing eyes, and looked instead out on the rising sun gleaming through the windows. The guilt was like a shard of ice in his side now, a shard that only grew with every word he spoke.

“Working in the shadows has never been my way, and it was such a small thing to waste time and resources on…" He said quietly, with a growing regret. "They were just words, I thought, words with no proof, no backing. I was sure the whispers would soon die down and be forgotten.” 

After a long silence he gathered himself enough to turn back to his wife, her earlier words turning in his mind. Could she be right? Could even the rumor of Targaryon blood be enough to push those in power to remove Brandon and Edwyna, lest they grow up and seek to claim their ‘birthright’ the same as the Blackfyre’s had so recently done?

The thought only made him feel guiltier still, something he had not felt for a long time. It was more unpleasant than he remembered it to be.

“So you see, if anyone is to blame for the spread of those rumors, it would not be Maester Walys.” He finally said as he looked at Lyarra, who suddenly seemed very small before him. “He went to great strains to convince me to take the rumors seriously, but I would not. I dismissed their growth and strength just as readily last week as I did three years before. If you wish to place blame, then place it on me.”

As he looked at the angry eyes of his wife, he knew that she saw to the truth of him, just as she always had. She saw now what she’d seen before, on that awful night when she’d finally confronted him on the whispers that had grown so loud as of late.

“I would see that you return those to where they belong,” He said in a daze, gesturing behind him to where the letters lay in a disordered pile. “I have enough things to worry about without adding further grievance between you and Maester Walys.”

In a daze Lord Stark drifted from his room, leaving his wife standing still and slumped in the middle of his room. He wasn't thinking as he walked through the keep, his mind a vague collection of thoughts and feelings. Later he would look back on his state of mind and think that it was quite foolish of him to wander about so completely unaware of his surroundings.

Before he knew it he was standing before a bed, and that was when his mind helpfully became aware once more of where he was and what he was doing. He was in the private room given to the very girl that was causing them all such grief with her sickness.

Here and now, his wife and their argument left far behind him, he sat beside the fur laden bed where Edwyna fitfully rested. It was so quiet he could hear her breathing, labored and strained from the middle of the bed.

She had not truly woken since they had brought her in, and even in her sleep she was not restful, but feverish. She lay before him, wheezing enough to make his own lungs tighten in sympathy, and he couldn't help but admire her strength despite her sickness. By the accounts the stable boy had given, Edwyna had made quite the attempt to escape her attacker, and even now she struggled with all her might to stay alive.

It had been two days, but this was the first time he’d found himself here before her bed. It was a tiny regret in the pit of his stomach, but it was unavoidable. He’d had other matters to attend to before visiting her, namely finding who had attempted to kill her.

Rickard has never been one to doubt himself…but now he feels himself wavering.

He thought back to the prior week, the tense harried fights he’d fought with his lady wife over this very child. He doubted now his every word, his every silence, his every _thought_ even. If he’d done something different—been more open to his wife’s worries, been less insistent about sending Edwyna away—would this have never happened?

He’d been so sure in his belief that the twins had needed to be separated, that he truly only had their best intentions at heart. He’d thought they needed some time and distance away from each others influence, that they would both be stronger for it.

Brandon would learn that it is not right to rely on a woman to think for him, would not rely so much on his sisters word to direct him, and realize that her strange ways were not to be admired. And Edwyna…perhaps without her brothers feeding into her imaginations she would stop speaking of things that made no sense, and learn to put away her ridiculous hopes to be a Maester.

They would both be stronger for it, he’d told himself.

But now…he doubted his own intentions. Had he really had their interests in mind, or just his own?

A lock of straight black hair had fallen and stuck to Edwyna’s feverish face. His hand reached out automatically to push the hair behind her ear, but stopped before it could make contact.

Looking down at her, with her eyes closed, he could truly only see Lyarra in her. She looked like a Stark, just as her mother did, with her long face and dark hair…it was only when her pale lids opened that the image was broken.

_“How dare you! How dare you even think that Edwyna is not your daughter! Get. Out!”_

His wife’s words echoed in his mind, and he remembered how he had so shamefully hesitated when asked if he believed the rumor Maester Walys had brought to his attention. It was true, even now, that he couldn’t help but think on the rumors whenever he saw Edwyna’s pale eyes shining red in the sunlight.

She looked like a Stark, Brandon and she both…but Lyarra was as much a Stark by blood as he was, being his second cousin.

Rickard pulled his hand back with a sigh and passed it over his weary face. He felt a fool for not putting a stop to the rumors sooner, for not putting a stop to his own doubting thoughts.

What purpose, what dark plan, would someone have to kill an innocent girl? He thought back to his wife's words and considered them once more. If it was the rumors that she and Brandon were not legitimate, then why hadn't the attacker made an attempt on Brandon's life as well? Perhaps the man had intended to take him as well but, when he found Edwyna alone, settled on just her?

What else could it be? She was not his heir, but she would marry and have children. Perhaps even the rumor of an ancestor with Targaryen blood truly _was_ enough to cause such an attack…especially after all the trouble Targaryen bastards had caused in the past.

He remembered vividly the scars that had been left on Westeros by the War of Ninepenny Kings, waged just two years before the twins were born. A war waged by Blackfyre pretenders, intent on proving they had the right to the throne on the merit of long distant Targaryen blood. Even now, six years on, their holdings had only just been extinguished from Essos.

The memory of Maelys, the last Blackfyre, was still fresh in the minds of many people…enough so that perhaps even the rumor of being related to the Targaryen bastard Bloodraven was reason enough to be rid of them. And Bloodraven himself, even as long dead as he surely was, still invoked fear of sorcery and dark magic in the minds of the people.

The man was more than likely a hired killer, as the attempt seemed to have been well planned ahead of time, and a sudden horrifying thought occurred to him.

Who else but the king himself would have more motive to stomp out rumors of further Targaryen descendants? He of all people had lost much to the Blackfyre’s, and his own grandfather had been the one to banish Bryndan “Bloodraven” Rivers to the wall. But for him to send assassins for such a small rumor…it seemed unlikely that it would have even reached Kings Landing. As a northman he was not as well versed in the politics and games of the south, and it was entirely possible that Rickard had misjudged just how fast a whisper could spread…and the power it could hold.

The thought that it had reached the capital was a troubling one, especially considering the man who now sat on the throne. He'd only met him once, but the one meeting was enough to convince him the man wasn't entirely... _there_. By the gods, he had honestly considered the idea of building a wall farther North just to expand his kingdom! The very thought was insane.

With a sigh he brought both hands up up to rub at his face, and was surprised when paper met his cheek. When he pulled his hand back he suddenly became aware that he'd walked from his room with one of the Maester Walys' letter clenched in his hand. It was both a stark reminder of his own naivety and of the look on his wife's face as he'd left. He didn't think he'd ever forget the disbelief, the anger in her eyes when he'd admitted his shameful dismissal of a matter his own Maester found worrying.

He listened to the rapid sound of Edwyn—no, of his _daughters_ ’ breath, and he thought of Brandon, his heir, locked and guarded in the nursery with the other children. This is what his indecision, his  _fear,_  had wrought. He needed to put a stop to these foolish whispers once and for all, in Winterfell, in the North, and especially in his own mind. 

And with that decision firmly in his mind, Rickard stood from his place beside Edwyna’s bed and purposefully tucked the fallen lock of hair behind her ear. He would need to speak with Maester Walys about what they could do about the rumors. With a sigh he smoothed the letter in his hand, belonging to said Maester, and wondered if he should return it to Lyarra or bring it directly to Maester Walys' rooms.

In the end the decision was taken from his hands when the door opened and the Maester himself entered the room, his attention focused on the floor in thought. Quickly he dropped the letter and pushed it under the bed. It was only after the Maester turned from closing the door that Rickard realized he should have just snuck the letter into the folds of his jacket. It was too late now however, the letter would just have to wait beneath the bed until he could return for it.

“Maester Walys, I’d like to call a meeting in my solar.” He said hoarsely, startling the Maester into noticing him. “I’ll have someone call for Sir Rodrik Cassel, and the guard, Willam…and once you have done all you can for my daughter, you will come yourself. We have much to discuss.”

 

—

 

“My lord Stark, I apologize for my delay.” Maester Walys said with an inclination of his head. “I came as soon as I could.”

As he entered he took stock of the rooms occupants. Sitting before the solars large oak desk was Sir Rodrik Cassel, the master at arms, and Willam, the Lady Starks foremost guard. Beyond them both, standing silhouetted by the sun shining through the solars large windows, was Lord Stark himself. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, and his long serious face was set in determination.

“It is of no matter, Maester.” Rickard said, brows creasing at his words, “I told you before not to come until you had done all you could...has her fever yet broke?”

“I’m afraid not, my lord.” Maester Walys said and raised a brow in surprise. It seemed Lord Stark was more worried for the girl than he’d expected…it was only slightly worrying. “I will continue to sweat her out until it does, however, have no fear.”

“I pray you are correct, Maester.” Lord Stark said with a sigh and a gesture towards the one empty seat. “Please sit, we have much to discuss.”

With a nod, the Maester sat beside the two other men in front of Lord Stark, both of whom looked just as grim and determined as their lord. It was a common look in Northmen. There was a heavy silence in the room, a feeling of anticipation. Maester Walys was not immune to this feeling, and he'd been wondering on the topic of the meeting since he'd met with Lord Stark in the girls room.

“I have been complacent,” Lord Stark began, “And my complacency has put my own daughter, perhaps even my _heir,_ at risk. This _must_ not happen again. On my honor, I will be complacent no longer.”

In the silence that followed his declaration Maester Walys glanced at the two men beside him, finding only confusion on their faces. He too was unsure of what lord Stark had been _complacent_ in, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it would not be where he expected. He had thought perhaps the reason for the presence of the guard and Sir Rodrik was to call for an increase in Winterfell’s defenses. Now, with this admission of supposed guilt from the lord, he was unsure.

“My lord,” Sir Rodrik interjected before Rickard could speak further, “You cannot possibly think that this is through any fault of your own. The _guard_ is at fault here, my lord, it was _they_ that did not properly dispense their men. They were foolish to move the entirety of the guard to the east of Winterfell—they should know better than to leave the western flank open as such!”

Willam flinched at that, although Rodrik’s tirade was surely not aimed at him, seeing as he’d been with the Lady Stark during the events of the previous night. Still, whether he took offense or not, he said nothing to defend the guard. It was true after all, the guard had holes in their defenses—the Maester knew it better than most.

“I assume, my lord, that you have called us here to find and remedy the weak points that this event has uncovered in the Winterfell guard.” Sir Rodrik continued, taking the words from Walys’ mouth. “As master of arms, I suggest—”

“While you are partly correct in assuming such Rodrik,” Lord Stark cut him off, “It is not the only reason I have called this meeting. There is another matter we must speak of first, after which we will endeavor to find a solution to the guards problems.”

Sir Rodrik settled back into his chair and nodded, looking a bit like the wind had been taken from his sails. “As you say, my lord.”

“I have thought long on the reason why this has happened…I asked myself why? What reason would one have to attack a little girl, one not even out of the nursery in fact?” Lord Stark said as he paced the length of the desk. “It was only after a...conversation with my wife that I came to a conclusion. One that was as ridiculous as it was enlightening.”

At this Lord Stark looked up and met Maester Walys’ eyes, expression heavy. The Maester kept his face very still then, and purposefully did not look away.

“They were acting on something as shallow and foolish as _whispers_. Whispers that you yourself brought to my attention, Maester Walys.” Lord Stark pressed his mouth into a thin line and finally broke his gaze from the Maester’s, who subtly relaxed in his seat. “Whispers that I ignored, that I refused you resources to do anything about…whispers that I did nothing to stem, in my ignorance.”

No one spoke out in question of what rumors Lord Stark referred to. They had all heard the back room talk of red eyes, of descendants a sorcerer who’d long since disappeared in the north, of the Lady Starks supposed infidelity.

“I myself put no such stock in things, my lord. I'm sure most in the north see such rumors as petty words, spread by the simple minded, and nothing more.” Sir Rodrik said with a huff, “The girl has unusual eyes, is all…and perhaps a tongue that is a bit too quick for her own good. Any who looked at her for more than a moment would know her to be a Stark.”

“Ah, how little you know of the power of rumors, Rodrik,” Maester Walys spoke up with narrowed eyes, “There need not be any proof in a whisper, only a good story. The small folk care not for the truth of things, not when a lie is so much more interesting.”

“Indeed, a whisper can quickly become a shout if spoken from a thousand lips.” Lord Stark sighed, “Though I wish it were not so, Maester Walys, for now we must find a way to stop these rumors, and I fear it will not be easy.”

“You would have greater luck stopping a wildfire, my lord.” The Maester said with a scoff, his heavy chains rattling as he crossed his arms defensively.

“Then you’d best ready your buckets of water, _Maester_.” Willam said under his breath, the first words he’d spoken since he’d arrived. The guard gave him a cold look from the corner of his narrowed eyes, and the Maester grimaced. It appeared that, unsurprisingly, lady Starks’ dislike for him had spread to her most loyal guard.

“It will not be easy to find the root of such a rumor, my lord.” Walls continued, ignoring the guards quip. “Perhaps if we’d acted to find the source right away…but now that trail has long gone cold.”

At his words Lord Starks face became pained and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I cannot look back at what could have been. I can only look forward, and hope it is not too late to fix what my turning of a blind eye has wrought.”

“Wise words, my lord.” Maester Walys said in defeat, and they shared a subtle look. Lord Stark knew that there would be no finding the true source of the rumor, not after so long. In the end he knew it wouldn’t matter who he pushed the blame on, the whisper would not stop spreading until it had a reason to…some kind of deterrent, perhaps a show of what would happen to those who spread such falsities.

"I will endeavor to find the source, and bring them to you for justice."

Despite Walys’ outward acquiescence to his lords demands, inside he was seething. Had this not been what he’d been saying all along? Had he not  _told_  the lord of Winterfell of the dangers of such a rumor? Only now, after his failure, was lord Stark finally acting, and now it was far too late.

“If I may, my lord,” Rodrik said, interrupting the tense silence, “I agree that ending the rumors are of utmost importance to the reputation of house Stark, but would it not be wise to look into other reasons for this attempt on the young lady’s life? Surely, if it was something as simple as a rumor of illegitimacy, then your heir would also have been targeted?”

“It is my belief he was, but they were not expecting him to return to the great hall in need of a change of clothes.” Lord Stark said, “They likely assumed that he would be with his sister, as he always is but—upon finding her alone—went through with their plan anyways.”

“It seems a stretch…” Rodrik said with an unconvinced look, “Perhaps we are looking at this in the wrong direction, my lord. I think you should consider the possibility that someone was trying to be rid of Lady Edwyna specifically.”

“For what gain?” Lord Stark exclaimed in frustration, “Yes, she has been known to say some…strange things, and her eyes often put people ill at ease, but surely that is not enough to warrant an _assassin._ ”

“No,” Rodrik said thoughtfully, “But lady Edwyna _is_ the main reason for these rumors...perhaps someone with a vested interest in house Starks reputation could have sought to remove her, and in doing so, remove any stain on house Stark and the heir of Winterfell.”

Maester Walys kept a pensive, interested look on his face, but he worried a trained eye would see the stiffness of the expression. An icy shard of fear had spiked through the whole of his body at Sir Rodrik’s slow words.

He had not expected _this_ when he’d arrived in lord Starks solar this evening.

At most he’d expected a briefing on the status of Winterfells’ defenses, and perhaps some small inquiries into the men who had been sent out looking for the escaped guard. It seemed that he’d underestimated the lord of Winterfell's sense of duty for his family, even a family whose legitimacy he obviously doubted. Although, by the guilt the man clearly displayed, perhaps he had finally let go of that doubt.

“Perhaps,” Lord Stark said with a heavy sigh as he sat and leaned his elbows on the desk before them, “In the end it matters not what their goal was, only that the root of it was caused by those damned whispers. They _must_ cease.”

“Indeed, my lord.” Walys said dutifully. “I’m sure with the full backing of your resources, it shall be an easy matter.”

 _But it will be of no use._  He thought bitterly, _A rumor only truly ends when all those that heard it are dead and gone._

His mind invariably returned to the young girl who even now slept feverishly...but for how long would that sleep last?

_Fear can stop the mouth from speaking, but for memory it only gives a longer life._

As he listened to Lord Stark and Ser Rodrik move on to the matter of the guard, the Maester sighed and fingered the pouch of Sweetsleep that lay in pocket sewn into this sleeve.

_People have such an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn’t._

It would be a simple matter to give her something to help her rest easier through her fever, and if she rested a bit too long...well, it would be unfortunate but not be surprising really. Children were so weak to the cold and the wet...and she'd been in it longer than most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Edwyna POV this chapter :( But she'll be back next chapter I promise. Also, next chapter will be the last chapter set in 268.
> 
> For those who don't know the War of Ninepenny kings was, here's a quick summary: invaders from Essos attempted to conquer Westeros and take the throne for the last Blackfyre-Maelys I in 260 AC. It was the fifth Blackfyre rebellion and all the kingdoms came together to destroy the invaders. The Blackfyre's are of course an offshoot of the Targaryens and have tried to claim the throne several times.
> 
> Many heads of the great houses came to know and become war buddies with each other, and though it doesn't say he participated explicitly, I am adding Rickard Stark to this band of War Buddies.
> 
> Also, what did you think of the look into Rickard and Walys' minds? Interesting? Surprising? Let me know what you think, good or bad!


	8. A Child Wakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to everyone still interested in the story! Sorry it's been so long, but I caught up to what I had wrote and then needed to write out rough drafts for the next 5 chapters. I have had the majority of the story planned out, its just fleshing it out that can take a bit so I do that ahead of time and that way I can update every week for you guys! But thank you all who are still reading and reviewing! Your reviews are what motivates me to update faster! 
> 
> Also, I ended up having to cut this chapter in half since it got up to like 12000 words...so hopefully where I cut it off isn't awkward. Enjoy!

268 AC

 

 

“What is this?” Lyarra questioned as Kendra slipped into the room. She nodded at the guards stationed both in and outside the room, including the captain of the guard Willam. The lady Stark was sitting as usual by Edwyna’s bedside, her personal guard with her, and had been watching with worry as her daughter tossed and turned fitfully in her fever. She was glad for the distraction that Kendra made.

“Have you found work in the kitchens now that they’ve found a replacement stable hand?” As Kendra drew closer to Edwyna’s bedside, Lyarra saw she held in her hands a pot of steeping tea perched upon a bed tray. A strong medicinal smell permeated from it.

“Yes, m’lady,” Kendra smiled, “Now that my Wylis has joined the guard, they’ve found someone else to handle the stables. Steward Royce was kind enough to give me a position elsewhere in the kitchens.”

Lady Stark smiled at the news, “That is good to hear, but what do you bring? I do not remember calling for tea?”

“Ah, Maester Walys personally requested it brought up m’lady,” She said with a frown, “He gave me the herbs and bade me to steep it and bring it to the young lady. I hope it speeds her recovery.”

“I see…” Lady Stark frowned momentarily, thinking it odd that the Maester would have a maid bring medicine up, as he had always delivered such things himself. “Was he so busy?”

“He said the Lord Stark had called a meeting in his solar and that he ‘must go there with great haste’ m’lady.”

Lady Stark nodded as Kendra sat the tray down, upon which lay a small note inscribed with Maester Walys’ handwriting. She reached out and stole the note to read, while Kendra filled a small cup full of the steeped tea. Under it she found his customarily embroidered medicine pouch. 

_'A supplement of sweet sleep and elderflower, to lower the fever and aid the child to rest well and unencumbered for swift health. Use but a thimble full for best application.’_

“Sweet sleep…” She murmured, though without much alarm, she knew her daughters history of troubled sleep after all. And perhaps a deeper rest would help with the fevered and fitful nights her daughter had suffered in her sickness, and make it easier for her to truly wake.

But though she was unperturbed by the tonic itself she could not help but worry as she looked at the steaming cup of very _dark_ tea, and the very _empty_ medicine pouch.

 “Wait a moment, Kendra...” Lady Stark said, stopping Kendra from tipping the drink to her daughters lips. “How much did you steep in that pot? Did you read the instructions?”

Kendra blinked in confusion, “I cannot read m’lady, so I…I just…”

Carefully lady Stark returned the tea to the bed tray, looking at it wearily now, and repeated her question, “How much of the pouch did you steep?”

“All of it, m’lady,” Kendra said looking down nervously, “I just assumed…I…”

“The instructions are very clear on not to use more than a thimbleful…Gods…” Lady Stark said in placing a hand over her eyes in horror, “Sweet sleep is harmless, when given in the right dosage. Too much and…and it can ensure they never wake.”

Kendra gave a startled gasp as the impact of her words hit her, hands coming up to cover the sound.

“I—I’m so sorry m’lady, I shouldn’t have assumed I—I should’ve had one of the literate girls steep the tea! I was just so glad to be of help, m’lady, me being so new to the kitchens and…and the Maester has been so kind to me, even after—”

Lady Stark looked up at her, narrowing her eyes at the sudden stop, “Even after what?”

Her most trusted captain of the guard, Willam, moved forward now, coming from where he’d stood at the door to stand by her shoulder. Kendra looked nervous as she glanced at Willam, rubbing her hands together and avoiding lady Starks eye, so Lyarra reached out and gripped her chin lightly, “Even after what, Kendra?”

“After…after he found me in his quarters…m’lady.”

Lyarra’s eyes widened at that and she dropped her chin, a sudden influx of thoughts swirling in her head. She looked to Willam and then to the other guards standing just outside the open door, and for a moment wished they hadn’t been posted there. For she knew why Kendra had been in his quarters…she’d been returning the letters she’d tasked her with taking in the first place.

But she certainly couldn’t say that in front of them could she? She could only hope they didn’t take her words to mean she’d been snooping.

 _It wouldn’t do for anyone to know the Lady of Winterfell stooped to common thievery over simple suspicions…_ Lyarra thought with a sliver of shame, _and now my folly has come back to haunt me. But it will be Kendra who will pay for this mistake, even if it is through no fault of her own that this has happened..._

“Lady Stark,” Willam said as he came to stand between her and Kendra, who cowered a bit under his stare. “Should I call lord Stark?”

Lyarra shook herself from her thoughts at that and looked rather faint at the suggestion.

“Surely not,” She said with a glance towards Kendra, “It was a simple mistake on her part, perhaps even on Maester Walys’ part for assuming she was literate…there’s no need to bring this to Rickards’s attention...after all I stopped her before any harm could be done, so all is well.”

Willam wavered for a moment, glancing between them, and for a moment she was sure he would head her words—right before, with a quick perfunctory knock, in walked none other than the Lord of Winterfell himself, followed shortly by Ser Rodrick Cassel his master-at-arms.

“My Lord!” Willam said in surprise, which quickly turned to worry upon taking in the solemn looks on the two men’s faces.

“Rodrik…” Lady Stark’s face dropped, and she met Kendra’s eyes solemnly for a moment. “How unexpected. I was under the impression you had called a meeting in you solar…”

“Indeed…that is exactly the reason we are here. We have found the missing guard in the Kingswood…dead and struck through by arrows. We have need of the captain of the guard in this matter.” Lord Stark said with a frown as he took in the odd standing of the occupants of the room, ignoring his wife’s gasp at the news.

“…are we perhaps interrupting something?” He continued, eyes narrowing in on the guilty look on Kendra's face.

Willam hesitated once more, giving a sidelong glance at Lyarra, but this time she only sighed and refused to meet his eyes. She could not ask him to lie to his lord's face for her, no matter how she wished she could--for the sake of Kenna’s daughter if nothing else. It would dishonor his many years of loyalty to her, and soil the trust built between them...and of course the guards by the door would likely have something to say about it, having seen the whole thing.

And so with a grave nod the words spilled from Willam's mouth, and Kendra pressed her face into her hands in shame as the Lord and his Master-at-arms listened on with furrowed brows.

 

—

 

With a quiet shame and indignation, Lyarra watched as Kendra was taken to the cells like a common criminal. Of the lower class she may be, but Kenna had been Lady Starks most stalwart and true friend over the years, and even as she’d assumed the worse of her she had always loved her. 

To see that friend's daughter held under suspicions of attempted murder, when Kenna herself had nursed and cared for her own children so many years…it shamed her that she could do so little--not that she didn’t try of course.

“Rickard, this is ridiculous!” She cried as she paced before her husband, “Bringing her to the cells...she's just a servant who made a simple mistake. If anything you should be after your Maester for being foolish enough to give such a medicine to an illiterate kitchen maid!”

“Lyarra, calm yourself, I have no doubt it truly was just a mistake but…” Lord Stark sighed and pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. “But Maester Walys and Ser Rodrick think otherwise, and their suspicion only spreads doubt in steward Royce as well. An investigation must be made lest it look as if I have no care for the safety of my own children.”

“Has it ever looked otherwise?” She said venomously, quelling under the chilling glare of her husband. “She is but a simple woman…a woman whose own son saved Edwyna’s life! Is that not proof enough that she meant no ill?”

“It may be but more fuel on the fire of their suspicion,” He groaned, “For is it not so _very_ coincidental that both the same woman who’s son lost Edwyna, is also the woman who left her alone with him in the first place? And of course their’s the matter of her being found in Maester Walys’ rooms with the letters…and why would an illiterate maid need such things?”

“You _know_ she was returning those letters on _my_ orders!”

“Yes, _I_ do.” He growled, “But there will be no telling them that. I will not have the Lady of Winterfells’ reputation slandered so.”

“And why not? “ Lady Stark drew herself up in annoyance at his use of her title, knowing he was only worried for the reputation of Winterfell itself rather than her. “Shall I have her sentenced to death for a simple mistake and a crime she committed for me, then?”

“She will not be sentenced to _death._ ” He said with a roll of his eyes, “Don’t be melodramatic Lyarra. The investigation will be perfunctory and I will ensure the worst of it is a…relocation.”

“And Maester Walys? Will he not be punished for his folly too, or shall I just assume he’s already kissed your feet and been forgiven?” She spit angrily.

Rickard’s eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. Then, with a quick stride and a quicker hand he gripped her shoulders and stopped her incessant pacing, fiercely holding her gaze in warning.

“You must learn to hold that biting tongue of yours. We’ve _all_ made mistakes here haven't we?” He said deliberately and calmly, “I believe Maester Walys when he says he gave the instructions innocently, under the assumption she was literate. True, it was a wrong assumption, but one made on the basis of finding her with the letters…after all what other use would she have for them beside reading?"

Angrily Lyarra tried to pull out of his grip, but he kept her in place and continued.

"It is not his fault she could not read the instructions to make the tea properly, nor is it _her_ fault that she had the letters that lead to his assumption in the first place, now is it?”

Lyarra sighed and finally pulled from his gripping hands, rubbing her shoulders carefully. She realized then that she’d come very close to snapping the rope they seemed to eternally be balancing on when they were around each other.

“The woman will be let go, that I cannot change,” He continued on, “But the charges against her will be found false, and with good luck we will ensure she finds a place elsewhere. Perhaps you could even write her a good reference, and send to your parents keep for a position for her. Her son shall have leave to do as he pleases as well, whether he chooses to remain with her or to continue in his apprenticeship with the Winterfell guard, is his choice however.”

“And what shall I say to her mother? What shall I say to Kenna?” She whispered in defeat.

“Whatever you wish,” He scoffed before continuing, “Nothing, if I had my way, but then you’ve always cared too much for the feelings of the staff to do that.”

 

—

 

And now Lyarra sat, nearly two weeks later, and felt once again her eyes prick hot with shame.

Kendra was long gone by now, having left heading south on the Kingsroad for a maids position in Burrowton. She’d stood heavily cloaked against the winter winds and watched from the battlements as her caravan left on roads dusted with snow.

Her young son Wylis had stood solemn and teary eyed beside  his grandmother Kenna, a hand gripping tightly to the practice sword strapped to his belt. She was glad that he'd chosen to stay, for ever a more loyal and kind boy she could not hope to find. She was sure he'd grow to be a good man, and she looked forward to the day he would guard her children.

She’d felt Kenna shake beside her, and felt her own helplessness like a leaden weight in her chest. Carefully she'd wrapped an arm around her, dutifully turning a blind eye to her tears and announcing loudly on the cold—letting her stern friend blame her shivers and sniffles on the winter weather and keep some part of her pride intact.

Since then she had yet to face Kenna for more than passing remarks and updates on the children. She felt only further shamed by her avoidance, but already her life seemed to be spinning completely from her control and she wished to at least keep the illusion that her friendship with the woman still lived.

Her daughter lying still as death before her, fever broken but yet to wake—the one who had put her there found struck down by an arrow in the Kingswood, his secrets buried now in an unmarked grave. And the Maester...

She did not know what to think of the Maester any longer…especially after the very revealing conversation she’d had with her husband on the origins of those letters and his role in attempting to quell the rumors rather than start them...

Had the Maester truly just made a mistake believing she was literate, one made in his haste to get to a meeting with news of the dead guard? Had this all been some terrible twist of fate and coincidence that things should end like this? Perhaps so…but still she could not shrug her suspicions, especially since his 'mistake' could very easily have put her daughter into a sleep from which she never woke.

So long had he crept and whispered in her husbands ear, sewing seeds of southernly thought and ambition…perhaps she could not blame the spreading of rumors as his doing, and perhaps it truly was a mistake that lead to that terrible almost overdose, but that did not mean she would ever trust him.

She would never believe he had the north’s best interests at heart…for what was best for the north did not lay in southern marriages or titles, but in the investment into the feeding and safety of it’s people.Both her husband and the Maester only ever looked south, at souther lands and southern gold and it turned their eye entirely from what they could be doing  _here_ in the north.

And so, with these wild thoughts and suspicions running about her head, Lady Stark had taken to sitting sightlessly at her daughters bedside for near on two weeks, refusing to allow any into the room alone—including Maester Walys. Every morsel of food, every drop of water or medicine, she tried first. Wylis often sat with her when not training with the guard, partly from his own worry and partly to fill the void his mother's absence had left and which he noticed most vividly when he was alone.

 

So long were the hours when lady Stark could not sleep for worry that often she would doze sitting up, eyes unfocused but half open, ready at any moment for her daughter to wake.

And when she did wake…it was not quietly.

 

—

 

At first she did not notice Edwyna’s open eyes, so obviously confused and disoriented, and it was not until she screamed that she realized... 

Her daughter had finally woken.

Her cry was a pathetic thing, and it cracked into chest splintering coughs almost immediately. Lyarra jolted to her feet, startled into awareness and looking for the cause of her daughters sudden fear. But there was no attacker at the door, nor any shadowed figure at the window, and when she looked upon her daughters terrified face she realized the only danger was within her own mind.

“Edwyna!” She called as she pulled the confining furs from her daughters struggling form, “Oh thank the gods!”

When her daughter turned lady Stark made sure it was into the warm embrace of her mothers arms, and they both clung to each other with equal vigor. Her daughters mouth opened against the hollow of her throat, trying to speak, but the sounds were nothing but croaks.

“Don’t speak just yet, it’s been some time since you’ve had reason to use your voice…” Lady Stark hushed her, pressing her face further into her neck with one hand and holding her shivering form close with the other. Her voice was shaking and choked against her hair. “Oh, Edwyna, thank the gods you are awake…thank the gods…”

With slow clarity Edwyna came back to herself, although she didn’t raise her head from where it was tucked beneath her mothers chin. Gingerly she peaked open her eyes, and realized that she was in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed with no idea how she’d gotten into either of them.

“Mother…” She tried once more to say, though it came out as little more than a dry rasp. She pushed gently against her mothers shoulders to turn and take stock of her surroundings, but was so disoriented and weak that she almost immediately fell back into her arms.

“Wylis,” Lady Stark said quickly upon taking a loud sniffling breath and wiping her face. “Call for some water will you? And…”

Here Lyarra hesitated and then gave a shuddering sigh, knowing she really had no other course of action than the one that lay before her.

“And call the Maester…tell him she’s finally woken.” She finished haltingly, as Wylis nodded once and rushed from the room.

“The man—” Edwyna finally succeeded in croaking as Lyarra gently settled her back among the warm furs of the bed. Edwyna suddenly grabbed the neck of her mothers dress, who still hovered over her, and struggled around hoarse breaths to get her words out, “—guard!”

Her mother grasped her frantic hands to still them, and met her fearful eyes with her own wet ones.

“You’re safe, Edwyna, we found him…he can’t hurt you anymore.” She whispered as she leaned forward to kiss her brow, “Everything’s alright now…everything will be just _fine._ ”

 

—

 

_They found him?_ Edwyna thought in disbelief, at once happy and confused where she lay shivering and grasping her mothers hand. 

They found him, the guard who had attacked her, tried to kill her…so she was safe. Wasn’t she? Why did it seem as if she was forgetting some major piece of the puzzle?

She tried to remember, tried to reach out and grasp at the feeling, but it slipped like icy fog from her fingertips.

 _Fog…_ She remembered as a cold terror grew in her breast, and quickly she pushed the memory away, letting it skitter off into a dark corner of her mind. She’d bring a candle to it eventually, when the air no longer felt like hot lead pressing down all around her.

As she waited for the cool relief a cup of water would bring, Edwyna closed her eyes and savored the feeling of her mothers fingers running through her matted dark hair. It was a struggle to breath, like there were sewing needles all throughout her lungs, pricking her chest in a thousand places with every inward breath.

Edwyna was nearly asleep again, drifting off to the soft low sounds of her mothers voice and her gentle combing fingers, when the door opened once more. She sleepily opened her eyes to the feeling of her mothers strong arm behind her back, shuffling her into more upright position.

“Wylis…” She croaked with a little smile at the familiar face. Before her hovered a wooden cup, held abreast by Wylis—whose kind face eyes were as soothing a sight as ever—and she eagerly opened her mouth for a sip.

When at last the cup was empty, her thirst quenched for the moment, she found it startlingly hard to keep her eyes open. Her vision was that of a window whose unbound shutters kept fluttering open and shut in the wind, and her head felt as heavy as a bolder.

“Come now, child,” A weathered voice spoke, unfamiliar to her in its cadence, “Stay your eyes but a little longer and look to me.”

Edwyna did as she was told, peering with sleepy confusion at the man that sat now where Wylis had just been. The lines of his face were deep, his head a strange oblong shape void of anything but a sparse ring of hair along the sides. As her eyes drifted down she took in the heavy chains and dark robes and her brow creased.

“Maester?” She questioned softly, confused. “Our…Maester?”

“Indeed, I am Winterfells’ Maester.” He said with a raise of his brows, tone rather bemused. “I would hope that wouldn’t be in question after all these years.”

At that her brows knit in confusion, and the Maester seemed to have seen it for he suddenly looked very intent for a moment, before turning to her mother.

“What has she said since waking?” He asked carefully, “Did she…recognize you?”

“Yes, yes she called me mother.” Lady Stark said with certainty, looking confused. “She obviously recognizes Wylis as well…”

“Hm…” He said thoughtfully as he turned back to meet Edwyna’s searching gaze. “Is that true? Do you know them?”

She nodded while her eyes roamed his face urgently. He was dressed as a Maester, and this was Winterfell, which had a Maester of course, all the great keeps did, so of course he was _their_ Maester but…

“And do you know me?” He said at last, holding her eye.

“Yes,” She said uncertainly, because she must know him. He was…he was…“You are Winterfells’ maester.”

“But do you _know_ me?” He pressed once more, gaze an unnerving heavy thing upon her.

Edwyna felt the eyes of all in the room upon her, and the air suddenly felt more crushing than it had since she’d woken terrified that she was still sinking into icy depths.

“Edwyna?” Her eyes swung from the beady piercing ones of the Maester to her mothers worried ones. She felt her breath hitch and rasp in her throat as she rapidly looked between the two.

“What is the Maesters’ name?”

What was she supposed to say? What name was she supposed to utter? She knows him…of course she knows him, how could she not if he was, as they say, Winterfells Maester? She reached, as she had done once before, but again her fingers met nothing but intangible fog. No matter how she tried to clasp it, it never failed to drift from the cracks of her fingers.

“I…his name…” She stuttered, looked down at the heavy bear skin that her fingers were worrying at. When she looked at Wylis, his face was just as confused and worried as her mothers, and she turned away quickly.

“I don’t know. I only recognized his robes as being a Maesters.” She said at last, seeing no other answer she could give. “I don’t know his name…I don’t know him.”

Quiet descended on the room like a hammer, but the Maester only folded his hands, waiting until she lifted her eyes to meet his once more.

“Well then…you may know me as Maester Walys.” He said with a smile that Edwyna thought looked rather fake, “It is troubling that I seem to be the only one who you cannot remember, however…sometimes the mind responds to stress in strange ways, perhaps you will wake one morning and find you remember once more.”

Edwyna rather thought she wouldn’t, but she didn’t dare say it in the face of her mothers worry.

“Now…do you remember anything that happened _before_ you woke?” He said softly.

“A man…a guard.” She said, glancing at her mother, “He tried to take me through the Hunters Gate, so I ran to the godswood. Mother said you found him.”

“The Hunters Gate?” Lady Stark said in surprise, “I didn’t realize he’d tried to take you out of Winterfell…”

“Indeed, this is news to me as well. But fear not, for you are correct in that we did find him and he cannot hurt you now.” The Maester said with a hum.

“But we have reason to believe he had accomplices, and an…employer. Did you perhaps…hear the man say anything specific about such a thing? Did you hear mention of a name? Or see a Lords heraldry maybe?”

Maester Walys’ words seemed oddly pointed, and his gaze overly sharp, and Edwyna couldn’t place why that seemed important. Eventually, under his scrutinizing gaze, she shook her head.

More fog between her fingers…was anything she remembered real?

“What of the guards at the Hunters Gate?” He pressed.

Edwyna hesitated, feeling drained but forcing herself to keep her eyes open and remember.

“Yes…” She said at last with a frown. “There were other men there that let him pass…but it was so dark. I don’t remember what they looked like…”

Feeling tears rising up in her confusion and tiredness, she bit her lip and looked away from the strange man who she didn’t know but should. She just wanted to sleep, to not think on all that was in her head and on the faces of those around her.

“I’m sorry…”

She just wanted to sleep…just wanted to…

…sleep.

 

—

 

Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell had recently found his new past time was standing in the broken towers topmost room—the only one left with a floor in truth—and looking out on the flat plains circling Winterfell.

Why was this his new favorite spot? Simple. No one would think to look for him here to give him any more bad news.

He sighed and rested his head on the cold stone of the open window, taking in the bracingly cold winds of winter. Although if ever there was a mild winter it would be this one—they’d hardly had a snow fall over a few fingers…it was welcome, but strange. He feared it spoke of a long summer ahead of them…and perhaps then an even longer winter.

 _For every good tiding, a fowl one follows,_ He grimaced, thinking on the month of fowl tidings he’d had.

His daughter missing, then found and sickened, the perpetrator found struck dead outside his walls, his secrets forever buried. His wife's temper pushing her to petty thievery, his Maester offended, his daughter nearly killed once more by foolishness…

And now she awoke, but she wasn’t whole.

Her breath rattled still, but it was her mind which worried him, which had _always_ worried him…perhaps even frightened him. She’d always seemed so fragile in that way…and now even more so, like she was just one step away from teetering right off the precipice into madness…

She’d been so confused and weary, looking at everyone like she was waiting to find another hole in her memory that she could not explain. In truth it was very strange that she’d forget but one person and remember all else…but the mind was a strange thing, perhaps Edwyna’s especially.

He’d visited her but once upon the news of her awakening, and had been strangely sad when he’d found she remembered him just fine. He’d almost hoped…

 _For a second chance_ His mind whispered to him, but he avoided the thought with a dismissiveness that was his way.

What was done was done.

He’d always been one to look forward rather than backward, and that is what he would continue to do. Although with the guard who had attacked her dead, they were at a loss for leads on finding the one truly responsible.

And there had been someone behind it…he was sure of it now.

Although the guard who had tried to take her had been found dead, there _had_ to have been someone in Winterfell to let him out in the first place.

What little they’d gotten of the incident from Edwyna had alerted them to the fact that the attacker hadn’t immediately tried to kill her, but rather had intended to take her through the Hunters Gate and escape. He had to have had other men in the guard ready to let him through…and those men must be still here for no other guards had gone missing.

Immediately after learning of this they’d gone to the guard rotation records…only to find them gone. The entire month of guard rotation records…missing.

He clenched his teeth and resisted pacing as he wife was so often wont to do. It would do no good if he started picking up his wife’s bad habits and wearing a hole into the floor of every room in Winterfell.

There truly was only one thing he could do…wait. Perhaps whoever had tried to hurt Edwyna…his daughter…perhaps they would try again, perhaps they would try to take Brandon this time…or perhaps they would do nothing at all after failing so spectacularly.

All he could do was…protect them, and belatedly back Maester Walys’ every attempt to quell the awful rumors that surrounded his eldest children.

Whatever amount of gold, whatever southern manipulations…whatever it took. They would be safe. The north would be safe.

That was all he’d ever wanted to achieve.

 

—

 

_'To My Old Friend,_

_How fair the weather in here, even in winter, and I am most sad that you are not with me to appreciate it. I do not envy you your position in the north, although I have heard news from thereabouts that this winter is particularly mild by most standards._

_But news of the strangeness of the weather is not what most concerns me. No, indeed it is other tall tales that have my ear these last weeks. It is not the first I have heard of them of course, as you well know, but as of late…they have grown louder._

_I hope you take no offense at my words, but I find it was with great foolishness that I believed your insistence that such whispers were well in hand, old friend. I suppose it is not truly a surprise, not many can live up to the standards I set after all._

_However, as I am a most loyal and diligent friend, I have taken upon myself to help you. Of course, it is also in my own best interests to do so, as I believe it will lesson my own troubles should these tales cease._

_The king grows ever more…cautious, you see, more weary of outside…threats. For now, his focus is on his Hand, who many are beginning to say truly rules the kingdoms, and whose power many see as a threat to the throne. What will become of this I cannot say, but for now it is in both our best interests to handle all whispers carefully, lest they come back later to reach his ear at a most inopportune time...The last thing this kingdom needs is a civil war, if you understand me._

_And so I pray you take my advice well in hand, friend, for it will come but once and should not be ignored. You have been heavy handed in your dealings, and such delicate things as whispers are best handled gently. Your actions have only exasperated the issue, and so increased the stories to such fervor that now what was once an idle spark spreads like dragons fire…_

_Did you truly believe a pouch of gold would solve your problems, Maester? I admit it often solves many issues, but in this manner…well it was ill advised to say the least. Even should it have gone according to plan, think of the stories it would’ve caused!_

_Even now such stories grow more and more outrageous. What was once a simple tale of escape from an assassin has grown larger by the day, many now saying she escaped on ravens wings, found refuge with the gods themselves, some even say she was brought back from the dead._

_But whispers—for all their strength—are also fickle, and with the right handling it will fade. Your error has been, in turns, doing too little and too much._

_You must change tactics, turn your eye away from the girl and the heir, and towards the people. Find a few who speak their tales too loudly, accuse them of spreading slander, and let the law do the rest. Such a show of strength will help the people know Winterfell’s stance on the matter, and many will then think the whispers lies. Letting this go on for so long without any denial…the north has strange ways if that is how their lord paramount handles such lies against their family's reputation._

_After said action has been taken, my next proposed step would be…patience. I believe it is something you have always prided yourself in, has it not? Well I advise you to use it, and let things be. Keep the girl quiet, and keep the boy interested in northern pastimes, and all should eventually be well. And, when the time comes…it would not be an otherwise terrible idea to find a place for them to ward separate from each other._

_I wish you the best in your endeavors, and for spring to come swiftly.'_

 

With a sigh, Maester Walys set down the letter he held in his hand. The correspondence was unsigned, but he had no doubt to whom the sender was.

The letter was unsurprising, as was the news from Kings Landing. As much as he valued his news, he certainly did not like to hear it. It was true, however, that he had made quite the mess of things in his heavy handedness, and he was only seeing that now. This whole matter seemed to be spinning from his control, especially with that dreadful incident with the Sweetsleep, which had been, in his panic, an attempt to fix things without dirtying his own hands. He could see now just how flimsy the plan had been, how short sited he'd become these past weeks...

His old friend was correct that, had his actions been successful, it would only have furthered the issues. Still, although he had begun to see the folly of his ways, had she woken with some knowledge of who had sent the man after her…it would have been a different matter entirely. He would likely not be sitting here thinking on his mistakes, but rather in the dungeons readying himself for execution. With that in mind, he could not regret his ill planned attempt on her life, for it truly was more self defense than anything else.

But no, she had remembered nothing of import, in fact she hadn’t remembered a single thing about him. It was strange how he seemed the only one to be forgotten, but not unwelcome, and it made the decision to follow the letter’s advice easier.

For perhaps he was right, perhaps the best thing to do was just…to let her be. Though she was the cause of the rumors—and so a threat to the heir of Winterfell, as he too was implicated in the tales of illegitimacy by association of being her twin—her disappearance would likely only lend credence to the people’s tales. He could see that now, and if nothing else he must be thankful to his friend for always bringing him clarity.

He frowned to think what they might have come up with, thinking her stolen away beyond the wall, perhaps to find and apprentice to her long lost ‘ancestor,’ who they always seemed to conveniently forget had to have died of old age by this point being near 100 years old.

No…he would let her be, keep her quiet and out of sight within Winterfell, do as his friend advised, and when the time came for her to be sent off to ward then…

Perhaps sending her to stay with the Manderly’s would be best…they were the most southernly of the houses, and could be good for ridding her of her strange notions for being overly learned. And being that far south could distance her from the northern peoples superstitions and ridiculous claims of sorcery. There certainly was no room for such things with the Seven, who he knew the Manderly’s had long kept their worship to.

As for young Brandon, it would be best if he was sent to squire somewhere far from his sister—their codependency was worrying. Although, as the heir, he doubted the people of the north would agree for him to be warded to a house who did not keep to the Old Gods. He would need to think on it, as he already had for the other children.

Many would say he was cold for thinking of mere children, not yet out of the nursery even, as pawns to be moved about at will. But he was not cold, nor was he cruel, what he was in truth was practical.

So many in the north could not see it, but he did. They would never be strong, never be safe, if they did not shed their ridiculous northern sensibilities and ally themselves with the south. So long had they been stuck in one place, never moving forward—and for what? Northern loyalty? Pride?

There was no place in this world for such things, there was only survival and to do that you needed power —of which the north had very little. It could not stop it’s people from dying in the long winters, and one only had to look around at the sparsely populated towns, nonexistent navy and pathetic roads to see that it had no real power beyond it’s army. And even that had been hit hard by the past War of Ninepenny Kings.

Loyalty, Duty, Justice. Those were the northern culture's foundation, and as it's timber was a dream of independence, rooted in each beam and thatched roof. It was a foolish dream that would bring them ruin.

They had but one ‘city,’ White Harbor, and it was the seat of the Manderly’s—a _southern_ family, as much as they liked to play at being northern--their roots were southern. Was that not proof enough that the north could only move forward by shedding it’s archaic culture for the far superior southern sensibilities? 

Maester Walys knew the answer many northmen would give to that question, and he knew it would be a stalwart ‘no.’ But the opinions of those northmen didn’t matter. The only mouth he needed to hear ‘yes’ from, was the mouth of the Lord of Winterfell.

And he already had that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait to hear what you all think! Any ideas on who Maester Walys' behind the scenes friend is? Also, I know a bunch of you were really hoping for Walys to kick the bucket...but sorry, he's gotta stick around for a bit. Plans to screw up, people to screw over, y'know the usual. Hopefully lyarra's transition from being super suspicious of him to only wary was natural. 
> 
> Anyways, next chapter--some big conversations! And then after that there's gonna be a bit of a time skip and I promise she'll start her attempts to 'help the north' but she's gotta get over her trauma with the weirwood first.
> 
> I'm planning to post the next chapter on Friday next week, but...I might post it sooner if the demand is great enough ;)


	9. A Child Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I ended up totally changing this chapter up...it wasn't even supposed to have Lyarra having Benjen buuuut...I just got this idea and decided to include it and then the chapter got suuuuuper long and...well hope you guys like it, but it may be kinda wordy...I'm trying to work on that but it seems to be my biggest issue. lol

269 AC

 

Edwyna was sitting with Lyarra in the nursery the day her mother gave birth to her last sibling. 

Lyanna was sitting on the thick rug before her, playing as she always did with much energy and imagination. At the moment it seemed she was acting a knight, trotting around on an imaginary horse and causing Kenna to hide small smiles behind a wrinkled hand.

Edwyna found that if she wished to keep her mind off things she’d rather avoid thinking of, it was always a good idea to visit her sister. One had no chance when with her to think on other things, lest they wish for a hearty punch from Lyanna to gain their attention.

She would much rather focus on the pleasant moments in time, such as finding out about the impending birth of her new little brother or sister, than think on the things which lingered in the dark spaces of her mind. And she certainly had much she didn’t wish to think on, even months after the…incident.

Every day since she’d recovered and left the sickbed she’d been chained to, her mother had sought to pull her to the godswood. And every day without fail, when the time came around near sunset for her mother to appear and ask for her to visit the Weirwood with her, Edwyna would refuse.

She dreaded it. She dreaded the look of utter disappointment on her mother's face, the shame it made her feel for avoiding something her mother felt so strongly about. And yet, still she could not bring herself to return to that place she so vividly feared.

Every day her mother appeared before her with a question on her lips…and everyday she felt a bloodcurdling fear at the notion of ever answering ‘yes.’

She wished now that she’d never read that letter that Brandon had found that day months ago, when she’d only just woken and still been a bed. Maybe then she never would have told her mother everything…and she wouldn’t have her mother looking at her like she was the answer to all her hopes and dreams.

 

—

 

_“Wynnie!”_

_Edwyna smiles for the first time since she’d woken at the sight of her brother in the doorway. He rushes with the speed of a locomotive—a what?—and heads straight for her bedside._

_Mother is not with him, she bade her goodbye with great regret and reluctance to get some rest after sitting at her side in her sickness for weeks. However, Kenna follows dutifully behind him holding Lyanna. Ned shuffles by her side looking somber and quiet as usual, but there is a twitchiness to him that belays a want to follow in Brandon’s footsteps._

_"Brandon!” Edwyna cries as she is engulfed in her brothers excited arms. The cry is both in welcome and alarm as the air is pressed from her chest in one fell swoop. As quickly as the hug begins it is interrupted by hacking coughs as she tries to regain her breath._

_Brandon swiftly backs off in alarm, and Kenna sets Lyanna down to rush over and prop her up into a seated position._

_"Thank you,” She rasps to Kenna, holding her hand out once more for her brother hopefully, “I’m alright now.”_

_Although Brandon gladly takes her hand and smiles in relief, Kenna looks less convinced. Her stern face sets into a frown as she makes eye contact with Edwyna, but the girl ignores her in favor of focusing on her brother’s steady rambling._

_“It took you long enough to wake up! It was so boring without you around—although I guess it was kinda fun playing Hide-the-Treasure with Ned…still it’ll be even better now that you’re up.” Brandon was practically bouncing where he stood, quickly letting go of her hand in his excitement and wild gesticulations. “We can play all sorts of things again, like Come-Into-My-Castle or Mother May I or—”_

_Edwyna laughed softly, though her every inhale told her she wouldn’t be doing anything but watching from the sidelines for some time. She ignored it though, and focused on the joy on her brothers bright face, on the tiny hopeful smile on Ned’s behind him, on Kenna who hid her smile as she was set Lyanna on the bed beside her._

_“—and, oh! Wynnie, me and Ned came up with a new one too! We call it ‘Find the Dragon.’” Brandon said with a smile when Ned prompted him with a nudge, “It’s where we pretend the dragon in Winterfells crypt woke up and we have to find him, and one of us is the dragon and the other is the Lord of Winterfell who sets out to find and tame it, and I’m really good at being the dragon because Ned can never catch me!”_

_“That’s because you move whenever I get close!” Ned says with a scowl, “That’s against the rules.”_

_“We made the game, the rules can be whatever we want.” Brandon says with a role of his eyes._

_“I’d never think you’d be good at hiding,” Edwyna giggles, “You’ve always been the type to hide behind the drapery with you’re toes hanging out.”_

_Brandon looks indignant at that, before he gets a familiar mischievous look in his eyes._

_“Being a dragon is different though—dragons can fly after all!” And with a great cry Brandon then throws himself up and over the bed, startling Edwyna and little Lyanna into laughing and giving Kenna a near heart attack._

_“Honestly!” Kenna says with a huff as she tries to reach out and cuff him upside the head, but Brandon quickly ducks away and under the bed giggling wildly. “You’re sister bedridden and you jumping all about hiding under the furniture! Get out from under there at once, you rascal!”_

_Despite Kenna’s stern voice, Edwyna could see the smile tugging at her lips as Brandon made growling noises beneath the bed._

_“You sound more like a wolf than a dragon to me.” Edwyna laughed and beside her Kenna raised her brows._

_“I should hope so…” She muttered beneath her breath, low enough that Edwyna thought she wasn’t meant to hear. The dark tone of the murmur dimmed her smile a bit, but Lyanna’s bouncing and clapping brought it back up to full brightness._

_“Wolf, wolf!” She cried in delight. Or perhaps she was saying ‘woof, woof?’ Edwyna couldn’t quite tell with her babyish lisp, but that made it all the more heart warming._

_Suddenly the growly stopped, and Lyanna quieted in confusion._

_“Oh no! has the great beast been vanquished?” Edwyna said with a laugh as she peered over the side of the bed. With a roar Brandon jumped from beneath the bed, nearly nocking heads with his sister and sending her tumbling backwards into Lyanna._

_“Brandon!” Kenna said admonishingly as she picked Lyanna up quickly, getting her out of the way of as he climbed upon the bed._

  _As her brother settled beside her, she couldn’t help but notice the quick slight of hand he employed to slide something beneath her pillow. She didn’t let her eye linger though, should Kenna see and investigate. She was familiar enough with her brother’s ways to know it must be something he was sure she might take away, to hide it so._

_"I can’t wait to try your new game, Brandon…” Edwyna finally said as things settled down, looking out the window on the far side of the room with a bit of melancholy. “Though perhaps we could do it inside…I think I’ve had enough of the cold.”_

_Brandon nodded, though he twisted his lips a bit in dissatisfaction, and Ned looked to the floor with a frown._

_“I…I’m sorry.” Ned said quietly, peering up at her through his loose hair. “For…for getting us wet I mean…and leaving you all alone…”_

_Edwyna and her brother both looked over at their younger sibling in surprise, and even Kenna’s stern face was slack with shock._

_“If I hadn’t gotten upset…if I hadn’t jumped on Brandon…” He continued on, voice trembling, “then…then you wouldn’t be…”_

_“Ned…” Edwyna interrupted softly before he could continue, not wishing to hear the ordeal rehashed once more. She was reluctant to speak of it…she just wanted to forget it ever happened really…but she also didn’t want her youngest brother to look so sad._

_“Don’t be silly.” She said at last, not knowing quite how to comfort him. “It isn’t your fault—it’s no ones fault really, other than the man who…well, it’s his fault and that’s that. So I don’t want to hear anyone say otherwise, alright?”_

_There was silence for a moment as Ned sniffed a bit, but then Kenna spoke up._

_“You’re sister has a right good head on her, little Ned.” She said with a sharp nod. Edwyna was surprised to find she met her eyes when she looked to her, and even more surprised to find something like pride in them._

_“So you had better listen to her, or I’ll have to knock it into your head myself, hm?”_

_Face red and fidgeting, Ned nodded and Kenna gave a huff of satisfaction. When he looked up Edwyna smiled at him, and he smiled a little back, and then Brandon came over to ruffle his hair in an attempt to knock the solemn look of his face. It really only garnered him a childish pout, but it was better than nothing._

 

_—_

 

_Sometime later, when Lyanna had grown restless enough and Ned seemed suitably cheered, it was decided that Kenna would take the two of them back to the nursery to ready themselves for bed. Although she tried, she was unsuccessful in bringing Brandon with her, as he had quite firmly attached himself to Edwyna’s bed post and refused to leave._

_With a long suffering sigh Kenna eventually gave in and left him there with an extra guard stationed outside the door, leaving to find lady Stark and apprise her of her eldest child's stubbornness._

_Finally, with the oaken door shut and the guards standing vigil outside it, Brandon sat up and eagerly reached beneath Edwyna’s pillow._

_“Look!” He said with a smile. “I found it under the bed.”_

_With interest Edwyna saw that Brandon held a folded piece of paper in his hand. She reached out for it and he released it willingly, although he quickly peered over her shoulder to look at it._

_“I didn’t have a chance to open it earlier. What is it?” He said eagerly, “Is it a secret treasure map? Oh! Do you think it will show us where the dragon is in the crypts?!”_

_“Honestly, there’s no dragon in Winterfell’s crypts! And if there ever was it would have to have been a very small one…how else would it even get down there?” With a roll of her eyes Edwyna pushed her overeager brother away and turned the paper over in her hands, realizing it was not a slip of paper but an envelope. A name written in looping script adorned the front, and on the back a broken wax seal flapped open._

_“This is a letter…to Maester Walys.” She said with a frown, still unsure of what to think of the man. She fingered the broken seal of wax, but did not flip it open, and her brother shook her impatiently._

_“Well what does it say then?”_

_“I don’t think we should be reading this…” She said instead, shaking her head._

_“Since when has that ever stopped you.” He said with a frown, “You always read everything, even when Maester Walys forbid you to.”_

_“I do?” Edwyna whispered, making Brandon look at her strangely. She certainly remembered reading, yes, but was it really forbid by the Maester?_

_“I mean…yes, I know, it’s just that…this isn’t a book, Brandon, it’s someone’s personal letter.”_

_Brandon groaned and snapped the envelope from her hands before she could protest, pulling the folded paper from it with a flourish._

_“Fine, **Ned**.” He said with a childish grin, “Then I’ll read it.”_

_Edwyna laughed, “Really? You?”_

_Brandon scowled at her doubt, and then with slow faltering words he began to read._

_“Maester Walys, I th—ank thee for thy…core—respond—ants. Long has it bee—”_

_“Alright, alright…I’ll read it.” Edwyna said with a huff, impatiently taking the letter from him. She glared at his impish smile. “You do need to practice more though.”_

_She cleared her throat,_

“Maester Walys,

I thank you for your correspondence, for long has it been since this old maester has received a raven that did not bare ill tidings. Your letter was of an interesting subject, but I must admit that it would do my heart well to speak of him once more, and so I will tell you what I remember.

As I’m sure you well know, there was a time when I was not Maester Aemon, but Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar Targaryen, once King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

_Here Edwyna stopped in surprise, having not realized that there were any of the royal line stationed at the wall. Her brother’s elbow nudged her in the ribs and she continued._

 

“When my father died and those who would see me on the throne raised their heads, I had no choice but to remove myself to the wall, as already I had taken my vows as a Maester and I would not forsake them. 

And when the time came to depart, I was thankful for the honor guard my brother sent with me, and among that guard was none other than the one whom you ask after. My brother of the Nights Watch, a man who did become the Night Commander, and who I called cousin—though in truth he was my great uncle. Brynden Rivers, or as most know him, Bloodraven.”

 

_“Bloodraven?” Brandon said with an excited look on his face, “That’s who mother and father were speaking of wasn’t it? The one who—”_

_"Yes,” She interrupted, as she remembered that night what felt so long ago. She remembered why she hadn’t wanted to find out who the man was, remembered her father suggesting she be separated from her siblings but…even that memory felt strange to her, as if she were forgetting something._

_She couldn’t help but connect the strange feeling with how she felt around Maester Walys—the man who she had no memory of forgetting._

“You asked for information on what sort of man he was, and so I shall describe him best I can.

Brynden, despite being a bastard of my grandfather Aegon V, had the Targaryen hair—perhaps even lighter still than most, as it was white as the snows beyond the wall. Many I have heard speak of the birth mark upon his face as that of a winged raven set in the color of blood, hence his startling misnomer. To my old eye, however, it has only ever been a misshapen inkblot—but the people see what they wish to see in such things.

He was not a formidable man at first glance, neither overly tall nor muscular, but rather gaunt. But his eyes could pierce any mans soul with a single look, and many a conscript found themselves cut to the quick by that stare—a stare that was indeed…

 

_…red.” Edwyna finished quietly, thinking of her own red eyes—and the eyes of those around her, always set just to the side or above in avoidance of a direct stare. She swallowed thickly, a sliver of doubt settling in her breast without her consent._

 

_“_ As for you're other inquiries, strange as they are, I can safely say that Brynden was never one to be found in…such places of pleasure. He was always rather focused in his duties, although I do know he had one long ago whom he loved. Beautiful of face and blonde of hair, with two different colored eyes. I know not what became of her, nor if they stayed true to one another after his departure in my honor guard. It is most likely she married another, for she was quite the beauty.

 

I hope that answers your questions Maester of Winterfell, and I thank you for giving me reason to speak once more on my cousin. I have missed him dearly since his disappearance beyond the wall, the Nights Watch is a colder place in his absence.

 

Signed,

Maester Aemon"

 

_“Is that it?” Brandon asked taking the letter and turning it over, looking a bit disappointed. “What does it mean?”_

_“I…don’t know.” Edwyna said, a dozen thoughts and memories swirling in her head._

_Her father, implying she and Brandon were illegitimate, her mother indignant and furious at the suggestion, the name Bloodraven tossed like an insult, red eyes…_

_“He…has eyes like mine.” She said without meaning to._

_“So?” Brandon said with a scowl, “Plenty of people have eyes the same color. Me and Kenna have the same colored eyes!”_

_Edwyna huffed a laugh, and knew her brother just couldn't understand the implications of what they'd just read. But perhaps that was best, as she most certainly wished she didn’t—_

_“Brandon? What is that you have there?”_

_Like deers caught in a hunters crosshairs, the twins turned at once with wide eyes, where in the doorway their mother stood._

_Too late Brandon tried to hide the letter in his hand beneath the pillow, cringing when their mothers eyes honed in on it, with a look of a wolf that had found it’s prey. Edwyna only sighed and resigned herself to her fate._

_With quick strides Lady Lyarra was upon then in a blink of the eye, hand already reaching under the pillow. When she pulled the letter from it’s hiding place Edwyna was surprised to see no confusion on her face, but rather only surprise and perhaps a bit of…guilt?_

_“Where did you come upon this?” She finally said with sharp eyes on Brandon._

_“It was under the bed…” Brandon said with a pout._

_“And did you read it?”_

_“No.” He said, but one raised brow from his mother had him cracking. “Well, yes, but what’s it matter if we read it anyways? If he didn’t want us reading it he shouldn’t have left it lying about like that!”_

_The twins both kept their gazes down at the bedspread after his little confession, waiting for a stern reprimand from their mother for their nosiness. But the expected harsh words never came, and in their place only a sigh rested._

_“Brandon, the hour is late…I trust that you can make it back to the nursery without causing more trouble?” She said with a weariness Edwyna was just noticing. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and the set of her shoulders was sloped—a far cry from their usual rigidness._

_“But, I wanted to stay with—” Brandon protested, before stopping. Perhaps he too noticed their mothers exhaustion, for he pressed no further than his token protestation and slowly jumped down from the bed and made for the door._

_As her mother pulled a chair up to sit beside the bed, Brandon stopped at the door and then, with a uncertainness that was unusual on his exuberant face, he turned once more to look at his sister._

_“I’ll see you tomorrow?”_

_Edwyna smiled and nodded. “Don’t worry, Brandon…I think I’m done sleeping. I’ll be awake before you, pinky promise.”_

_And with a last shared smile she was left alone with her mother, who still held their confiscated letter in her bony hands. When had her mother gotten so thin?_

_Finally, when the silence had stretched what felt like hours but what was really likely moments, Edwyna could no longer hold herself back. What felt like a hundred thoughts swirled in her mind, but it was only one which made it’s way into the world._

_“Are—are we really Starks?”_

_Her mother finally looked up from the letter in shock, eyes wide with horror._

_“What?” She breathed, “What could possibly make you to ask such a thing?”_

 

“…whispers of my infidelity with some Bloodraven descendent, some son of a whore in moles town that grew up and seduced me from your arms!”

“How dare you! How dare you even think that Edwyna is not your daughter! Get. Out!”

“But his eyes could pierce any mans soul with a single look, and many a conscript found themselves cut to the quick by that stare—a stare that was indeed…red.”

 

_“Edwyna?” She heard her mother ask softly, hand upon her cheek, and it was then that she realized her heavy panicked breathing._

_And then she could hold it no l longer._

_“I was there.” She chocked out. “In your solar…I know father wants to send me away. I know he…he thinks…”_

_Her lips trembled, her young voice cracking, unable to finish the sentence. When she looked up, eyes stinging, she could see the dawning horror on her mothers blurry face._

_“You were…there? How?” Lyarra started in bewilderment, before shaking her head, negating the question._

_She reached across the bed to take Edwyna’s face into her hands, her eyes once again their usual fierceness, and it was almost enough to disguise the darkness beneath her eyes. It was a welcome sight, as Edwyna had not seen much of anything but sadness and weariness on her mothers face since waking._

_“No matter how you came to be there—and truly how you managed to hide so well is beyond me—I do not wish to hear you ever ask those words again. Do you understand me?”_

_Slow tears dripped from Edwyna’s eyes as she looked down, and her mothers gentle cool fingers wiped them away softly. The comfort of it was soothing, but the gesture only served to further the flood of tears from the overcome little girl._

_“That night…your father’s wish to send you away…was not entirely his own. They were brought on by cruel whispers in his ear by one whose council he perhaps values too well.” Lyarra said firmly. “I know you have no memory of Maester Walys—the specificity of which I find…curious—and so I will remind you that you should never trust the man. He is both ambitious and patient, and he lives behind masks so well made you can never tell which is the truth.”_

_“But…the letter—”_

_“The people are cruel in their rumors, jumping on such a small similarity…” She said glancing down once more. “Bloodraven was a man—some say a sorcerer with a thousand eyes and one—surrounded by mysticism and secrets, but still a man and likely long dead by now. A figure whose place at the wall has long been both respected and feared—and whose disappearance has only served to further his legend. People want that legend to continue…for it makes a better story than reality.”_

_“A…sorcerer?” Edwyna sniffled, a feeling of fear overcoming her. Immediately her mind turns to that dark place where she’d hidden her memories of that cold and foggy place._

_Lyarra’s fingers dig almost painfully into the sides of Edwyna’s face, her mouth pressed tight and eyes gripping in their intensity._

_“You are my daughter. Brandon is my son. You are Starks.” She whispered harshly. “You should never doubt that. Never.”_

_So much was the stress of all that had happened, all the questions, answers, the confusion and missing memories…and it was that simple statement that pushed it all over the edge. Edwyna’s hastily built wall, which had kept all the terrifying things at bay, tumbled down._

_At once it all seemed to come out in a heaving, chest clenching mess of tears and gut wrenching sobs._

_“Oh my clever girl…” Lyarra said as she pushed her way to sit on the bed beside her, doing as she often did when she was upset and pulling her into her lap. “Your father will come around…in truth, perhaps he already has. Perhaps this will be the turning point for better time.”_

_When the last Edwyna’s tears fell and her cries quieted, her mother pulled away to reach for a damp cloth to soothe her red and swollen face._

_Still stroking her cheek with the cool cloth, Lyarra studied Edwyna’s face in ernest, thinking._

_“There’s something else upon your mind…” She said with surety. She gave a slight smile at the shock Edwyna was sure shone on her face_

_“I’ve seen that look on your face too many times to not recognize it…” She said with a roll of her eyes when Edwyna looked at her suspiciously. Then, sadly, she continued, “It’s the look that say’s you have something to say, but are worried that people will think you strange for it.”_

_With a look that was quickly turning sour, Edwyna tried to pull away from her in retreat, but Lyarra held fast._

_“I lied.” She said at last, so quietly Lyarra nearly missed her words. “About not remembering anything else…”_

_With wide eyes Lyarra asked equally quietly, “You remember something else from the attack?”_

_“No…” Her daughter said, to her confusion. “I remember something else…something…after.”_

 

—

 

“Wynnie! You’re not paying attention!”

Startled out of her sullen thoughts, Edwyna gave a little cry at her sisters surprisingly hard punch to her arm.

“Sorry, Lya” Edwyna said, and giggled as she watched her enthusiastic ‘galloping’ start once again. But instead of playing her part as the princess in need of rescuing by the mighty

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The words seemed to confuse Lyanna, but then a thoughtful look came upon her face. Edwyna couldn’t help but think on her own dreams for the future, of learning and reading…and of the dreams her mother, the Maester, and her father had for her…each so very different.

“A horse!” Lyanna pronounced with a serious nod.

“…oh?” Edwyna chocked out. Her muffled laughter only seemed to draw Lyanna’s quick temper though, so she cleared her throat quickly. “I don’t believe that’s how it works Lyanna. Ponies grow up to be horses…and you’ll grow up to be a woman.”

Lyanna huffed in annoyance. “Let Ned be a woman. I’m gonna be a horse!”

Edwyna could hold it no longer, and she burst out with laughter the sound raspy and short as it had been since she’d woken those months ago. Even Kenna could be heard snorting from the corner where she focused on her needlepoint.

“What’s this?” A voice said from the door. “You all seem to be in good spirits today.”

“Oh it’s nothing,” Edwyna said with a giggle as she turned to her mother, even as that dread from before curled in her stomach.

“Really?” Her mother said with an amused smile as Ned and Brandon peered around her swollen belly from the hallway. “Well, surely you must be quite bored having been stuck inside all day. Perhaps it would do you well to join us in the godswood Edwyna?”

And there it was.

“N-no thank you.” She said quietly, ignoring her mothers worried frown, the disappointment in her eyes. “It’s quite cold, and I’m afraid my chest has been a bit of a bother today…”

Kenna looked at her shrewdly, having heard no cough from her all day, but she said nothing. She knew by now this play they enacted every day, one that had Edwyna falling back on her ‘weak constitution’ that everyone was always so worried about.

Although it was true she had been much frailer than she had before her fall, she certainly wasn’t an invalid. She could easily take a walk outside, and she would love to…if they weren’t headed to the godswood.

“I see..” Her mother said sadly. “Well, it would certainly be best for you to stay inside then, for the sake of your healt—”

Suddenly her mother stumbled, a hand pressed to her large belly.

“Oh…” Lady Stark said breathlessly as she looked down. When Edwyna looked down she gasped at the sight of water dripping onto the floor.

“She’s peeing!” Brandon said in shock from behind her.

“She’s not peeing—her water broke!” Edwyna shouted, suddenly on her feet.

“How did you—” Kenna said looking at her strangely. But Edwyna had no time to spare for her usual questioning.

“She’s going into labor!”

 

—

 

Winter was near it’s end when Lady Starks fifth child was born, a beautiful baby boy black of hair and grey of eyes who seemed to have sucked his mothers coloring from her upon his birth. It was a dark, dreary morning that he was finally cleaned and put in her arms, and Lyarra laughed wearily upon seeing his eyes, as already they smiled at her. Grey faced and worryingly pale, she laughed once more at how easy Benjen lay in her arms, so different than her last child Lyanna. Every moment she had stayed swaddled she’d cried, and every moment she had lay free she’d squirmed, as if to make a break for some unreachable freedom.

_“Where are you going, hmm?”_ Lady Stark had often cooed, _“Always trying to get away, and yet if I let you where would you go? You cannot even crawl yet, you silly girl.”_

Her husband was the first to see Benjen, as he’d been the first to see all of her children, save for the Maester and Kenna who helped with the labor. He smiled just as she had, Benjens’ smile was just that sweet and infectious, his laugh even more so.

He sat and held him for awhile, telling her he approved of the name and that he seemed a strong and healthy babe, that upon speaking with the Maester he believed it would be best if this be their last child, considering how hard the birth had been on her body. Lyarra heartily agreed, for it had been a long and difficult labor that had left her cold and drained. Then he gave both she and the baby a hard kiss upon their foreheads and departed, just as he had done the last four times, save for once.

She thought back to when Lyanna had been born, at the height of spring, and remembered being both glad and saddened to see him so enamored with her. It had not been so with her first born daughter, though perhaps time and old grudges had clouded the memories of the unease she’d seen in his eyes upon first seeing Edwyna.

 _“Red eyes. A fire where there should be ice.”_ He had said, shaking his head. He’d left quickly then, having seen his first born son and heir already.

But Lyanna…with her he’d sat for hours and marveled.

 _“She is a beauty,”_ He had said fondly, _“She has wolfs blood in her, that’s certain. You can see it her eyes, same as Brandon…Ned too if you can get him riled up about something.”_

Lady Stark had nodded and smiled, but in the end said nothing. Her relationship with her husband is only civil so long as she holds her tongue, although even when she criticizes him she knows he would never dare harm her in any way, of which she is thankful. There are times however, when she misses the easy young love they’d shared when they first wed, a love that had slowly but surely been buried as the years went on and his southern gaze drew her ire more and more.

Although…with how he’d been acting with Edwyna lately, taking an interest in her hobbies and her studies…she had hope they could once more regain some small bit of that past camaraderie.

Now that her husband had left, soon her children would come to meet their new sibling as they had always done. As if on cue, her children filed in behind Kenna, and each looked upon their new brother with varying reactions. Ned was the most enamored unsurprisingly, he always was the softest of her children, and she was sure he was quite glad to no longer be the youngest boy. Perhaps with a younger brother to look up at him he’d gain some confidence in himself.

Brandon seemed rather bored with it all, as he was when Lyanna was born, saying he didn’t get what all the fuss about babies was since all they did was ‘sleep and cry and smell weird.’ And Edwyna, clever, odd Edwyna had let him curl his hand around her finger and said, “He’s lovely…but I’d hoped he’d be a girl.”

“Oh well, you’ll still have little Lyanna to play with Lady Edwyna,” Kenna said as she tried to keep said little girl from squirming right out of her arms, “No reason to be disappointed in having another brother.”

“No, no,” Edwyna had said, shaking her head, “I mean I love playing with Lya but…I just thought if father had two _normal_ looking girls then he’d marry them off instead of me,” She said nonchalantly, “and then I could go and join the Silent Sisters…or maybe just stay in some tower somewhere and read all day, like the spinsters in Old Nans stories.”

Lady Stark sighed sadly at her eldest daughter, and was brought back to Lyanna’s birth when Edwyna had taken one look and said, _“Father must be quite happy.”_

After everything that she’d been through…everything she had told her…if her heart could break for her girl anymore, it would. Not only for her awfully low view of herself, but also for her impossible dreams of a life of learning. First daughters to Lord Paramounts just did not join the Silent Sisters. And they certainly did not go to the Citadel to become Maester's, a dream that she’d known of for some time, despite her two eldest childrens’ attempts to keep it confidential.

“You’re normal!” Brandon immediately shouts in her defense, missing the point entirely. Lady Stark immediately shushes him, nodding to the sleeping baby, but it’s too late and Benjen stirs sharply into wakefulness, his cries swiftly filling the room. Brandon gestures to Benjen and Lyanna, “ _They’re_ the one’s who are not normal, always _crying._ ”

“Don’t be stupid Brandon, crying is normal for a baby.” Edwyna said with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the anger on her brothers face. “I am absolutely certain you cried even more than Benjen and Lyanna _combined_ when we were babies. You can’t seem to keep your mouth shut to save your life, after all.”

 _That’s true,_ Lady Stark thought in bemusement as she tried to calm Benjen down, _Although Edwyna was often the one to make him cry…usually when she wanted something but couldn’t be bothered to cry herself._

“That’s not true! I can be quiet, I can be the quietest person you’ve ever heard!” Brandon said with a scowl, “I can be even quieter than ned, and he’s _always_ quiet. They’ll name me Brandon the—the soundless, because I’m so quiet!”

Edwyna snorted and tried to hide her laughter. “That’s a terrible name.”

“Perhaps you can be quiet _outside_ then, _Lord Brandon the Soundless_.” Kenna said as she marched over and grabbed the tip of his ear, dragging him towards the door. Ned snickered from his place on the floor distracting Lyanna. “You are disturbing the baby, or have you no ears as well as no sense? And you too little lady, don’t think I didn’t notice you rilling him up!”

“Ah, ow! Alright, alright you can let go now!” Brandon said contemptuously as he was rooted from the nursery into the hall. His sister followed behind quietly looking both chastised and annoyed.

“Now you two stay out here, and I want not one peep from either of you. Lady Stark is in a delicate state and she needs none of your foolishness, understand?” Kenna glared and turned to reenter the nursery, before stoping and giving them both suspicious looks, “And don’t even _think_ about leaving this hall. You’re getting too old for me to be chasing you around the castle.”

Then, with a slam of the door, Lady Stark had peace. Kenna came quickly over to her to quiet little Benjen, who Lyarra gladly let her take in her exhaustion, and Ned and Lyanna went back to their games on the floor. 

As Kenna rocked her newly born child, she watched Ned and Lyanna playing innocently and thought of her two other children sitting sullenly outside. How she wished all her children were as Ned was, so quiet and rule abiding…but then she didn’t truly, she was just so tired…and cold. She’d never felt this way in her last pregnancies.

For a moment she wondered if she should call the Maester…but then decided against it. Even now she was always hesitant to call on him unless the need was absolute. She was sure it would pass with some sleep…

At the thought she found her mind drifting, and she wondered what would await her in her dreams.

 _Dreams._ She thought drowsily, _Oh, Edwyna…if only I could take them from you._

She remembered vividly even now how heartbroken she had been to hear from her daughter all she’d been burdened with these long years. But she was also…strangely filled with wonder at all she’d told her. And it was that wonder that had fueled her to try to fervently these past months to sway Edwyna into the godswood.

Her dreams…the things she’d seen that night…they were beyond anything she’d ever heard of before. She could not help but believe they must have some purpose.

But Edwyna…she did not care. She did not care if her dreams were important. She did not care for her ‘purpose.’

 

—

 

_“No…” Her daughter said, to her confusion. “I remember something else…something…after.”_

_“After?” She murmurs. After…after she’d fallen into the pond?_

_Edwyna took a deep breath. “That night…the reason I was in your solar in the first place was to tell you something. But after..after I was too frightened. I didn’t want to be sent away.”_

_“I would never send you away, Edwyna.” Lyarra said with conviction, although confused at the turn of direction in the conversation. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”_

_Edwyna sniffled and nodded, looking once more as if she were to burst into tears. But her stalwart little daughter held them back, and with nary a shake in her voice continued._

_“I know people think I’m strange, that it’s not just my weird eyes, that I say things that don’t make sense or that I shouldn’t know…” In her lap her fingers twisted and pulled her dress in anxiety. “I think…I think it has something to do with my dreams.”_

_“Dreams?” Her mothers stare grew more intent at that and her hands upon her shoulders rub gently to calm her. “What kind of dreams?”_

_“Dreams that are real. Brandon said that you might have them too.”_

_“Yes…once I did. When I carried you within me, you and your brother.” Her mind drifted back for a moment to that day in the godswood, with the winter snow and wind whipping around her and red eyes staring through the weirwood into her soul. “But not since you were born have I dreamed as I did then.”_

_“What were they like? The dreams?”_

_“Odd. Terrifying. Confusing.” She responded slowly, “But I knew, in my heart, that they were not just simple dreams. I knew the gods were showing me something, telling me something, as vague as it was.”_

_Lady Stark closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, “There were winter roses of ice slowly melting upon the steps of a great tower by the sea. A burning Weirwood under a red sky. Two wolves chained and howling under a summer sun, giving their last panting breaths upon red stones. The iron throne loomed, and upon its points…well, that is not for the ears of a child.”_

_There was a moment of silence as the little girl gathered her thoughts. Lady Lyarra worried at what she would say next, and at once wondered what connection there was to the attack her daughter had suffered._

_“I dream of a place that is not here. A place with towers of steel and flying metal boats. Of fires that never go out, of people so rich they throw out mountains of food and still grow so fat they can hardly move—”_

_“Oh,” Her mother sighs a laugh, interrupting her, “Wynnie, those are not like the True dreams. Those are just dreams, wild imaginations that bloom at night, when you have the time to think on them.”_

_“No!” Edwyna shouts, startling the laughter from Lady Starks’ face as quickly as it formed, “No, these are real.”_

_“Wynnie, calm yourself…” She says soothingly, “Dreams always feel real when you are in them.”_

_Edwyna shook, tears gathering in her eyes in frustration. “I see it when I wake sometimes. I wake and it’s as if the world is not how it should be, like I’m still stuck in a dream, but I’m awake. I look at winterfell and sometimes the towers rise higher and higher until they touch the sky. I look at the swords in the training yard and see them warp into strange things that shoot fire and smoke. I look at the heart tree…and I see eyes. My eyes, but not. Like they’re the eyes of some other me, in some other place, and they want me there not here.”_

_Edwyna shivers, eyes distant, and Lyarra feels struck still by what she is hearing._

_“It hurts my head and I…I forget sometimes where I am and what I’m saying comes out wrong, not right, just like they say I am. Even I think I’m strange, even I don’t know what I’m saying and thinking sometimes.” With a deep shaking breath her daughter finally looks up and meets Lyarra’s startled eyes. “And then, when…when he threw in the pond…I saw something. Something like my dreams, but…not.”_

_“What…what did you see?” Lyarra whispered. She held Edwyna’s pale gaze unblinkingly, hardly noticing how they gleamed like red stained glass in the evening candlelight._

_“Someplace…else. The Weirwoods had no faces, the ground was like some strange mirror of Winterfell…everything was ice and fog and shadow.” Lyarra took her daughters small shaking hands in her own, dwarfing them. “And then…I stood in a weirwood circle, and everything changed. They took me and it was like I was them, or they were me and—and everything made sense suddenly—and then they died and I woke up and—”_

_“Who took you?”_

_Edwyna stopped her rambling and swallowed heavily._

_“The shadows. The shadows that said they were…me.”_

_“Edwyna…this is, this is quite a bit to take in…Shadows and dreams and a world of ice, I don’t know…” Lyarra murmured, pressing a hand to her eyes. After a moment however, a thoughtful look passed over her her face, “The place of always winter…”_

_Edwyna nodded, “Wylis…he said Old Nan called it the Otherworld. He said—and I know I’m not supposed to listen to Old Nans’ stories anymore, but—he said that she spoke of the Otherworld as the place where the Children of the Forest went to rest, and where the Others were born.”_

_“Gods…Edwyna,” Lady Lyarra murmurs, a heavy fear dropping to the pit of her stomach when they lock eyes—but it’s a fear for her, not of her. “Have you told anyone else of this…place? Of your dreams?”_

_She shakes her head wearily, “Not about the…the Otherworld. Just the dreams, and only Brandon. He thinks they’re real.”_

_Lyarra had always been a believer, her faith in the old gods was absolute and she was often considered too superstitious even by Northern standards. She didn’t know anything for sure, except that there was much that was unknown and unproved in this world, and so anything was possible._

_But even so…this was a lot to take in. Were they truly just dreams? Were her wild imaginations and strange ways just the influence of a lonely childhood and a kind old woman’s stories, as she’d told Rickard all those weeks ago?_

_Or was there…a bit more to this than she’d thought?_

_She thought back to that night, all those years ago, the vision she’d seen beneath the weirwood. It had fueled her faith for so many years, and now she had the same feeling as she did then—that this was not something to be ignored. This was…important._

_“Oh my poor girl…” She whispers, drawing her slightly resisting form closer to kiss her forehead. Then, after a moment silence she made her decision. Whatever the truth, she could not ignore what her daughter told her, not if they were a sign from the gods as she could not help but believe._

_“I believe you. I believe you saw what you say, whatever that was. I do not know it’s meaning, or why they showed you what they did…but I believe it is important and we must not ignore it.” Lyarra sighed against the fear that rested in her belly, and used it to put as much weight as she could on her next words, “And you must promise me that you will tell no one else these things. They will think you mad, do you understand?”_

_“Yes,” Edwyna whispers, looking more troubled and solemn than any child has the right to look, “They…won’t go away? Like yours did?”_

_“I don’t know darling,” Lady Stark said sadly, “Dreams of the waking world are no longer dreams…but visions. I had but one of those, and it was before the heart tree, where it showed me you. Your beautiful eyes staring back at me from the weirwood tree, just as you say you saw. I thought the gods had answered my prayers, I thought to myself, ‘those eyes will be the Norths salvation.’ Perhaps the gods are trying to tell you something as they did with me. Perhaps they won’t stop until you understand what it is…”_

_“I don’t want to understand it.” She cries softly, “It hurts my head…I just want it to go away.”_

_“I’m so sorry Edwyna.” Lyarra shakes her head, “But the gods do not always give us what we want. If I could bear this for you I would, I’d take it all in one beat of my heart, so long as you suffered no more.”_

_As Edwyna slowly calmed against her breast Lady Stark held her ever closer, as close as her position would allow. “My only advice…is to talk to your brother. He will ground you, and I believe talking about it will help you fear it less. Fear only serves to cloud the mind.”_

_Edwyna says nothing, does not even nod, and Lyarra strokes her hair to comfort her._

_“I don’t think I’m meant to be here.” Edwyna whispers, eyes wide and distant. “It should’ve been just Brandon. I shouldn’t be here.”_

_“Shhhh, don’t say that.” Her mother began to rock her back and forth, “You are my daughter as much as Brandon is my son. I birthed you both, held you both, sang to you both…don’t ever say that is wrong. You are here, and you are not wrong, just different. Understand?”_

_She didn’t speak, just nodded and pressed her face further into the neck of her mothers dress. The pit in her stomach stopped feeling quite so unending as before, her mother words filling them with warmth._

_In that odd place in the back of her mind that lay in the shadows, the worry that her mother would agree and send her away was vanquished. Warm in her mothers embrace, the words she’d confessed began to drift away, her eyes grew heavy and though she resisted, sleep rose to claim her._

_Lyarra continued to cradle her in her arms, afraid to let go for even an instant. She did not understand what was happening to her daughter, but she did not doubt that she was hers._

 

_—_

 

_It should’ve been just Brandon. I shouldn’t be here._

Her words echoed in her mind, feeling just slightly off—as it was sometimes with Edwyna, when her words seemed to come from somewhere else, from a place in her mind that perhaps understood everything for small moments at a time, before it slipped away again.

She was meant to be here, the gods had shown her that, perhaps even given Edwyna to her. She could not believe that there was not a reason she was here, and this episode had only strengthened her feelings on the matter.

As she drifted to sleep on memories and half formed thoughts, she felt a surge of fear for her daughter. Being strange was not an easy thing in this world, especially as a woman, and she could only protect her from so much. Her boys, she knew, would have less trouble. Already they showed to be strong willed and healthy, loyal and honest to a fault. But her daughters…once again she was glad that her newborn child was a son, for all the worry daughters caused. She hoped that her youngest daughter, her sweet Lyanna, would not worry her near so much as the older did.

_(If only those prayers had been answered, she would think years later. If only.)_

 

_—_

 

And with the slam of the door, they were alone.

“ _Did_ you do that on purpose?” Brandon said suspiciously. “So we could leave, I mean? Not that I’m complaining that is, I’d rather not sit around and watch some tiny bundle of blankets snore anyways.”

“What? No!” Edwyna said, annoyed that he’d taken Kenna’s insinuating words to be truthful, “It’s _your_ fault we got marched out here. You never think before you speak, do you?”

Brandon scoffed, “Why would I do that? I have _you_ to think for me, after all. When I’m lord of Winterfell you’ll be my Maester, and whenever I need some thinking done, I’ll just have _you_ do it.”

“Girls can’t become Maesters Brandon, only boys can,” Edwyna said with a scowl, “And I am most decidedly _not_ a boy.”

“That never used to matter to you!” Brandon said, “We always said that’s the way it would be, didn’t we? I would be Lord and I’d kick Maester Wanker out, and then _you’d_ be my Maester and we’d stay in the North, in Winterfell, together.”

“That was before, when we were _five_ ,” Edwyna scowled now, thinking on those long nights filled with stupid wishes and whispered plans, “What would happen when I married? I couldn’t be your Maester then could I?”

“Well…He’d just have to come here, to live with us! And if he didn’t want to, then I’d just tell him to shove off!” Brandon said with determination as Edwyna scoffed, “And if anyone else didn’t like you being my Maester, then I’d go tell them to shove off too!”

“Never mind Brandon the _Soundless_ , they’ll be calling you Brandon the _Boorish_ if you keep saying things like that.”

With a sharp scowl Brandon searched for a good response before giving her a shove in retaliation for her words.

“Always so witty Brandon,” Edwyna said as she stumbled from the push. It was something she really appreciated about her twin, that he did not treat her like glass as everyone else did since her near death experience. “Truly, I cannot defend myself from your sharp tongue, please spare me!”

“I’ll show you _witty_.” Brandon said with a growl and shoved her again. Quickly, Edwyna grabbed his sleeve as he pushed her, careening backwards from the force of it, and taking him with her.

“Oof!” They both said as they hit the ground. At once they turned to each other, eyes meeting, and begun to laugh.

“ _What_ is going on out here? Did I not make myself clear that you were not to make a _peep?_ ” Kenna said in a shouting whisper. “We only just got the baby down again! And your mother is asleep!”

“Yes, what _is_ going on here?”

A moment of stunned silence followed the stern question, before both children looked at each other in horror. 

“Father!” Both floor ridden children said in surprise. Quickly they stumbled to their feet and strove to dust themselves off. Behind Kenna, who stood still in the doorway, Ned peeked around to see what all the commotion was. Lyanna struggled valiantly towards the door but was swiftly stopped by gravity and weak baby legs.

“My lord stark! Come again so soon?” Kenna said with confusion, “We’ve only just put her down you see, so it is not the best of times, but perhaps Lady Stark—”

“No, thats all right Kenna.” Their father said dismissively, still looking at his eldest children with thinly veiled annoyance. “Lady Stark needs her rest. I’m afraid I’m here to speak with my other children. Kenna if you could get Ned…ah, there you are, good. Now, Ned, Brandon…Edwyna, follow me to my solar. You'll be taking lunch with me today.”

 

—

 

Edwyna saw her brothers share a nervous look as they sat in their fathers solar, where they sipped tea as they awaited lunch. Although Brandon and Ned had been in the room once a week for years, Edwyna had never been permitted, and so she soaked up her surroundings eagerly.

She’d never seen so many books, there were even more here than Maester Walys' room, something she hadn’t thought possible. She read the spines one by one, memorizing the interesting ones with hopes her brother could borrow it and give it to her; she hadn’t stollen a book since the…incident and she was itching for a new one.

“You’ve both reached your seventh name day,” Her father announces as he came and sat before them, “Already two weeks ago now. And little Ned, already six…time flies swiftly when you care not to see it pass.”

He heaved a great sigh and leaned forward, gaze studying the three of them quietly. Edwyna didn’t miss how he gave her a little smile when he met her eyes. She still felt her stomach flutter in happiness every time it happened now.

“As you are of age now I’ve arranged for your own quarters and servants.” Lord Stark said finally, looking at she and Brandon. “It is customary for children to leave the nursery at seven, as I’m sure you are aware. Kenna will stay with your new brother, Lyanna and Ned for another year, in the nursery.”

Edwyna felt saddened by the words, but she nodded anyways. She’d known this would come, and though she would miss her brothers shifty, snoring presence, it might be nice to have her own quarters. As much as she’d hated being bedridden all those months ago, one nice thing had been the quiet of the room, which had been wonderful for uninterrupted reading—although the books had not been anything of too much interest lest they ‘excite her weak constitution’ as the Maester had said.

“No longer will you be required to stay with Kenna or your mother at all hours. Now you’ll have daily tutoring, rather than thrice weekly as it was before, and I expect you both to respect and obey the authority of your respective tutors—whether they be Maester Walys or not. If any come to me telling tales of your disobedience or disregard of your studies, there _will_ be consequences. Understood?”

“Yes Father.” They both intoned. Neither of them wanted to find out what those ‘consequences’ would be.

“You shall be the Lord of Winterfell someday Brandon.” Her father said sternly, and they both knew he was likely thinking back on their tumble in the halls earlier, “You must conduct yourself as such from now on. Ser Rodrik Cassel will begin teaching you the ways of combat twice a week, and after your lessons with him you shall come here to learn strategy with me. Otherwise you shall be learning your general studies with the Maester.”

Brandon nodded and looked quite eager at learning swordsmanship. He’d been pleading every day with Kenna to take them to the training yards to watch Wylis practice. Lord Stark then turned to Edwyna and she straightened in her seat. “And you Edwyna…one day you shall marry, and be the Lady of your own keep. You must learn to manage a house and prepare it to survive the long winter. You will join your mother in her solar after she has recovered—until which you shall be taught by the Stewards wife. I suspect she will have you spending a good amount of time in the glass gardens.”

He looked away and Edwyna took a deep breath to calm her heart, nervous and giddy from her fathers attention. It made her brave enough to ask a question. “F-father? Perhaps I could join Brandon and Ser Cassel sometimes? For archery, of course, not swords.”

Her father rose an eyebrow at that, “I hadn’t thought you the inclination for such things. Always stuck in some corner reading or…playing with strange things.”

She blushed, wishing again he’d never found her that day she’d been enamored with finding a way to light the fire without getting up from bed.

She’d taken several enhancing glasses and a polished mirror from Maester Walys’ study, and was using rope to try and keep them at just the right angle in relation to the window and the fireplace, when he walked in looking for Ned and Brandon but found her instead.

He’d looked at her so strangely, and she was sure she’d looked mad, all tangled up in rope and surrounded by slowly rotating mirrors and bouncing streams of light…it had been a foolish idea she realized now. But all that time abed had made her silly in her boredom.

“But if you truly wish to learn, then I will not stop you—as long as your constitution allows it of course. Archery is a fine pursuit for a noble lady to exercise in her leisure time.You’ll both soon learn to ride as well, though not yet alone.” Lord Stark smiled slightly, looking amused at something, “You’re legs put together wouldn’t be enough yet to keep you on a horse.”

“I can do it alone,” Brandon said bullishly, making their fathers smile widen, “Just let me try, father, I’m sure I can do it without anyone else.”

“Your brash stubbornness will get you many things Brandon, but it will not get you longer legs.” Their father laughed, and it was a wonderful sound that Edwyna had never before heard in her presence. Brandon seemed especially good at drawing it out of him, something she jealously admired.

Suddenly a quiet clearing of the throat brings the rooms attention to their youngest member.

“If I’m not to leave the nursery…” Ned asked hesitantly. “Then why was I called here father?”

“Ah, Ned, that brings us to our second matter of attention.” Lord Stark says, “The matter of where you all shall be sent to ward when you come of age.”

“Ward?” Ned asks in confusion. “We’re…going someplace?”

“Not for several more years, but it is something we must speak of now, to prepare you. All of you will leave to learn from other great houses for several years, and the other children you befriend there will be your allies in years to come.” Lord Stark had suddenly grown quite serious again, looking Ned in the eyes with solemnity, “The ties you make there will strengthen our house, and perhaps open marriage talks. You are here today, Ned, because I have already secured an arrangement with Jon Arryn of the Vale for you to be under his protection and teachings for several years. Come your eighth name day you will ride for the Vale and become his ward, along with Robert Baratheon, heir to Storms end.”

“The Vale? But that’s…so far south.” Brandon says with a grimace. He looked at his younger brother with growing sadness, “And in only two years…”

“This will be a good opportunity for a better relationship with the south.” Lord Stark says with finality, “And Jon Arryn is a good and honorable man, so I’ve heard. I believe you’ll do well there.”

“Thank you, father,” Ned finally says with wide eyes, “I’m sure I’ll get used to the idea of going south…”

Edwyna bites her lip to keep from speaking, already thinking on how far south her father might want to send her. Brandon he can’t possibly want to send away anytime soon, being the heir to winterfell, but her…she only hoped she would be sent somewhere close enough to visit at least one of her siblings.

“Mother says the south is full of fools.” Brandon said with a glower. “Why does it matter what relationship we have with them?”

Lord Rickard stiffened at that and his figure suddenly seemed imposing where it blocked the sun from the great windows behind him.

“Your mother is wise in many things, but in this she is as ‘foolish’ as she believes the southerners to be.” He said with a tight jaw. “The north is isolated and though I was glad for this short and gentle winter we have had, it only worries me for what the coming years will bring. Winter is coming, and without the south who will feed out people? Without alliances there is no trade, and with no trade…there is no food. And in a long winter that is what is needed most.”

Brandon pouted, no doubt feeling chastised and confused on which of his parents to believe. Edwyna too felt off kilter, having lived so long with her mothers scalding words and opinions on the south in her ear.

Her fathers words made sense…although Edwyna still could not comprehend the true fear he felt at the thought of winter, as the only one she could remember living through was quite gentle. But then she also hated the idea of her family scattered to all corners of Westeros, never to be heard of again but through letters and keepsakes.

A knock then came at the door, breaking the heavy silence that permeated the solar.

“Enter.” Lord Rickard intoned, and a servant rushed in looking harried.

“M’lord…” The servant said with a nervous quaking voice, “M’lord, something has happened…”

Her father stood then with his usual steely countenance in place, suddenly piercing the servant with the entirety of his attention.

“Your wife m’lord…the lady Stark…” He continued, head bowed, “She’s…she’s—”

“Out with it!” He barked, and the man jumped.

“She’s taken sick!” He stammered out, wringing his hands. “The Maester…he says there was a sudden bleeding…she may not last the night.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I said that this would be the last chapter before the time skip but...this chapter got so big after I edited it that I decided to split it up into two chapters. So now time skip will be chapter 11...I'm just going to stop promising certain things will happen in certain chapters from now on because I can't seem to keep my promises in that respect haha! Anyways, hope I didn't hurt anyone too bad with this cliffhanger...till next week!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had stuck in my head for awhile now and I've been writing about it for quite awhile...so I decided, what the heck, might as well post it. If someone likes it, great, if not then oh well. I'll have to get the idea off my chest by writing it no matter what, so it'll update no matter what. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think! I love constructive criticism on my storytelling and writing!
> 
> Also: this story is crossposted on FF.net under the name ThreeTeasFourTwo.


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